“Well isn’t this just a right mess...”

Tetra mutters to himself. His crimson gaze fixates on the sun streaking through the sky. A countdown plays in his head as he watches Ifrit’s radiance begin to simmer and wane upon Briarwood Forest.

“Hah! Well isn’t this a right mess? No, that's not it…”

The acrid crunch of desiccated leaves grows louder with each passing moment. Tetra's anticipation mirrors the escalating sound in his ears. He swallows a hearty breath, running his fingers through his gravity strewn hair before realizing the futility of the action.

“What a right mess I’ve found myself in. No…”

A sardonic twist plays at the corners of his malicious smile as the final machinations of his scheme solidify in his mind. He sweeps the scene with a practiced eye, then pats down his person, confirming the harvested briarroot is nestled within his robes.

Finally, his quarry pushes through the thick brush into a small clearing, looking up at the seemingly helpless Tetra as he dangles from the stout branch of a towering oak.

“Well. What a right mess this is. Care to help a fellow out?”

A bewildered silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the rustle of leaves beneath Tetra's swaying form. Syvern, unable to contain a smirk, prods Grünamish with his elbow.

“Catch of the day, eh?” he jokes, earning himself a prompt smack on the back of the head from his gruff companion.

“Oh joy, yet another intruder,” Thaunaphyll spits.

His hand darts to his rapier, the polished wood gleaming in the remaining rays of the sun as it’s drawn with a flourish. Grünamish mirrors the action, hefting his crossbow and aiming it squarely at Tetra's chest.

"Now, now, friends" Tetra interjects. A weak smile, carefully crafted to disarm, plays on his lips. "Surely there's no need for such a hostile welcome toward a simple damsel in distress?"

Laela leans in, tickling Tomi’s ear with a hushed murmur. “You don’t think he—”

Tomi cuts her off with a curt shake of his head, unwilling to reveal their suspicions.

“I’m not sure, Laela.” He replies in a low tone. “He’s not giving off any unusual readings. Yet, something isn’t quite right about him either…”

Tomi edges forward, hardening his gaze with suspicion. Sensing his impending animosity, Tetra quickly speaks up.

"Please friends, once I'm relieved of this rather uncomfortable situation, I assure you, I'll be happy to answer any inquiries you may have.”

“However,” he continues, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I fear whatever that thing lurking within these woods might return at any moment."

Tomi freezes in his tracks, a void forming within his gut.

“What… thing are you talking about?” he probes.

“Surely you jest,” Tetra laughs. “You mean to tell me that your party remained blissfully unaware of the overwhelming shroud of dread that held this whole forest in contempt a mere pittance ago?”

A heavy silence falls over the militia, as Tomi gives them an admonishing look.

“I see.” Tetra carries on, scanning the adventurers with a scratch of his chin. “Not a group too well educated in the field of magic, it would seem. Nevertheless, I believe my time in Verdatia has overstayed its welcome.”

“Young lady,” he perseveres, flinging his gaze over to Laela, “I presume you’re the one in charge?”

Laela steps forward, emanating a subtle glow from her fingertips as she gracefully interlaces and inverts them, emulating the likeness of a flower in bloom.

"Commander Laela Pisthelle, cautiously at your service milord."

"A pleasure, Commander. Upon your return to Verdatia proper, might I suggest dispatching a contingent of your finest to cleanse this land of whatever malevolency taints it?"

Laela clicks her teeth before turning to address Syvern with a firm voice. “Syvern, cut the bastard down.”

“Right away, Commander.” he answers with a salute and a glint of mischief in his eye.

He brandishes his boomerang, squeezing his eyes into a squint before launching it with a practiced flick of the wrist.

“Watch your head, highborn,” he bellows as the whirling projectile severs the binding snare with a sharp snap, sending Tetra tumbling to the ground and landing hard on his knapsack.

“Damnations…” Tetra grumbles, quickly patting himself down to ensure nothing of importance was dislodged during his descent. ”I hope those scrolls are still usable.”

With Tetra on his feet, Thaunaphyll stows his rapier.

“What’s your name, stranger?”

“Ah! Yes, how rude of me for not introducing myself. You may call me Tetra,” he exclaims, sweeping into an exaggerated bow.

“Right. Hands out please,” Laela asks, taking a step towards him.

Complying, Tetra extends his arms only to find them ensnared by an eruption of vines swiftly sprouting from beneath his feet.

“Wh— What’s all this for? Commander?”

“Just a precaution…”

With skillful ease, she secures the leafy cuffs and takes a step back, scrutinizing him with a look that promises a far more thorough interrogation to come.

The musk of damp earth and loamy soil hangs heavy in the air as Laela addresses Tetra more formally.

“What’s your business in Verdatia, Tetra?”

He clears his throat, spinning an intricate tale with his exhalation.

“I’m a traveling scholar you see, returning to Zaikarte from Icarus, where I tended to the ailing in a remote village.”

“What village?” Thaunaphyll interrupts.

“Mmemtuan. Northeast of Sastrugi, I believe.”

A fleeting glance passes between Thaunaphyll and Grünamish, the latter offering a curt nod.

Tomi, still uncertain, interjects. "And how, pray tell, did you reach Icarus without traversing Verdatia?"

A forced chuckle escapes Tetra's lips. "Ah, a slight detour, you see. Urgent business in Alterra necessitated a landing on the Icarion coastline. 'Twas there I learned of a woman in Mmemtuan, gravely ill." He gestures towards his pack, the leather worn and dusty. "Papers to verify my journey, but alas," he spreads his hands, revealing the leafy bonds, "my hands are tied."

Laela shakes her head, dismissing the offer. "No need. You mentioned Zaikarte. What business awaits you there?"

“Mere family matters, Commander. I have some relatives on the outskirts of Sonorah, and I’m hoping to catch them before their pilgrimage commences."

“You’re Ascendant?” Grünamish asks with a surprised ascent in his tone.

“Well…yes?” Tetra responds.

The Verdatians and Tomi exchange glances, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment evident in their averted eyes.

“Ahh, I see..” Tetra speaks up, sensing the sudden shift. "Fret not, my friends. I understand how my… complexion can be unsettling. I tend to spark a bit of untoward animosity in strangers.” His eyes meet Tomi's for a fleeting moment, passing a silent message between them.

Tomi, unable to hold the tension, breaks the silence with a forced cough. "Well, that’s just fine then! Enlightening experience, wouldn't you say, Thaunaphyll?" he offers, just a touch too jovially.

Thaunaphyll snorts. “Oh spare me the theatrics, you hound. Don’t you dare act for a second like you’re better than us after the stunt you just pulled.”

Laela cuts through the bickering with a voice sharper than an Eltian blade. "Will both of you give it a rest?! Have you no respect for Verdatia and her reputation?"

Shamefaced, Tomi and Thaunaphyll hang their heads.

"Forgive them," Laela apologizes to Tetra. "Recent troubles have frayed their tempers."

"No, no trouble at all, Commander," Tetra replies smoothly. "Leadership is a weighty mantle. I commend your authority, young lady."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

A faint blush variegates Laela's cheeks.

“We– well, we should be on our way then.” she stumbles, struggling to find her poise. “Verdatians, fall in line!”

Thaunaphyll, Syvern, and Grünamish snap to attention, forming a line behind their commander. Tomi, murmuring under his breath, sidles up beside her.

“Not for nothing, Petal, but what exactly are we going to do with him? Can’t exactly leave him to his own devices.”

Laela pauses for a breath before readdressing Tetra.

"Sir Tetra, you are now formally under the protection of the Verdatian militia. We will escort you as far as the Zaikarten border. Your journey beyond remains your own."

A smile slowly creeps across Tetra's face. "An offer most welcome, Commander! Your generosity is heartwarming. Who knows what perils might've awaited me without your timely intervention."

“Commander, the border is at least a day’s trek,” Grünamish interjects. “Nightfall will descend before we make significant progress. We'll need to find somewhere safe to set up camp.”

“And preferably outside of Briarwood forest,” Tomi adds, punctuated by a series of assenting bobs from the rest of the boys.

"Very well," she concedes. "Grünamish, where can we lay our heads for the evening?"

Discomfort washes over Grünamish as he grows more and more uncertain of his decision."Well, Commander, it's a touch macabre, I'll admit, but the closest viable shelter would be—"

Laela's hand shoots up, silencing him mid-sentence. "No. Out of the question.”

Grünamish, his brow furrowed, pleads his case. "Hear me out, Commander. It's on the way, and offers ample protection from the encroaching night."

“It is forbidden, Grünamish. I won’t permit it.”

A bewildered whisper escapes Tetra's lips, directed at Tomi. "What are they referring to?

Tomi’s gaze flitters between Grünamish and Laela before he offers a hushed explanation. "I believe Grünamish is suggesting we rest at Mestria Estate.”

A twinkle of curiosity makes its way into Tetra’s eyes. “Mestria Estate sounds downright idyllic. Why the hesitation, Commander?”

Losing some leaves with the frantic whip of his head, Thaunaphyll spits at Tetra’s feet, a resentful snarl distorting his face. “Wretched outsider! Mestria Estate is hallowed ground; the final resting place of the first Verdatian royal family. To even set foot upon its grounds is blasphemy, let alone sleeping within its halls.”

Tetra offers a confused look. “Blasphemy? Whatever do you mean?”

Laela exhales a deep and weary sigh. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, contemplating what it was in her life that led her to this conversation she was about to begin.

“During the Calamity, The Bright Lord and her armies swept through Verdatia like a storm. They razed Tanglewood to the ground before the Mestria family could halt their advance in Briarwood. Thanks to the special mana siphoning properties of briaroot, a flora that only grows here, the forest was preserved. However our people were no match for the Bright Lord’s martial prowess. We were cut down and were forced to retreat to Mestria Estate, where the matron, Hestevia, took her own life by connecting to the Verdancy and taking root in the Estate’s courtyard.

A somber glance is exchanged between Laela and Tomi. He instinctively starts to step forward, but she holds him back with a subtle shake of her head before continuing her tale.

“Even with her sacrifice, the power of the Verdancy proved insufficient to shield her kin. Accepting their fates, the Verdatian army poured their very essence into Hestevia, transforming their spirits into a thick, impenetrable bramble that engulfed the estate. This act of selflessness was just barely enough to protect those remaining from the Bright Lord’s wrath.”

Cutting in with his usual tomfoolery, Syvern offers a childish addendum. “Legend has it that the souls of the dead still roam the grounds, possessing all those who trespass with the spirit of vengeance”

Grünamish, exasperated, lands another resounding smack on the back of Syvern’s head. “You leafless half-wit, that’s her great-grandmother you’re prattling about!”

Syvern recoils, his cheeks burning crimson. "S-sorry, Commander," he stammers.

Another, acknowledging sigh escapes Laela's lips. “That said, I see your point, Grünamish. Perhaps Hestevia would ‘low her kin a place to stay for a night. Let’s move out, people!”

Thaunaphyll glares daggers at both Tetra and Tomi, a fresh volley of spittle hitting the ground before he turns and stalks after Laela, his back rigid with disapproval.

Tetra leans in towards Tomi, his voice barely reaching a whisper. "A tad nasty, that one, huh?”

Tomi, now giving a sigh of his own, offers a curt reply. “Don’t even get me started…”

Tails of sunlight, bespeckled by the overhanging branches, spills onto the clearing as the bunch emerges from the dense foliage of the Briarwood. The air, thick with the scent of dying flowers and decaying leaves, carries the gentle gurgle of a shallow river nearby. A bridge, weathered wood etched with moss and lichen, stretches gracefully across the water, offering ominous passage into the unknown.

The group comes to a halt, their breaths forming wispy clouds in the dusk fallen air. Grünamish, his broad chest heaving slightly, unfolds a worn map. His weathered finger traces a convoluted route through the grove towards Mestria Estate.

“Only a moment's pause, everyone. We’ll have to press on soon if we want to make it to Mestria by nightfall,” he says.

Seizing the intermission, Tomi approaches Laela by the river with a gaze filled with a mixture of apprehension and apology. "Laela," he mumbles, his voice barely audible over the soft babble of the river, "about earlier... I didn't know."

Laela casts him a fleeting glance, her emerald form shimmering faintly in the waning sunlight as she splashes cool water over her face. "Neia, neia, Tomi." she replies, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves overhead. "We can talk about it later. For now, I’d like to just ensure our safety for the evening."

But Tomi persists, the furrow between his brows deepening. He reaches out to her, voice filled with an ocean of regret; a desperate plea for reconciliation. “Laela please–”

Her leaves agitate at his approach. She swats his remorseful hand away, rebuking him with a newfound edge in her throat.

”That’s enough!” she barks, sending a ripple of echoing disquiet throughout the group.

"We will discuss this when we return home, and not a second earlier. Now, please, let us be on our way."

The sound of anger: Unexpected. Unfamiliar.

A knot of apprehension tightens in Tomi’s gut as he steps back, his ears drooping ever so slightly. The depth of her discontent, lost upon his occupied mind, is now made clear.

His stark silence and trepidation turns her countenance. A jaded sigh escapes her as she reaches out towards Tomi. Her lips brush softly against his cheek, the warmth of her touch momentarily banishing the chill of her earlier outburst.

Dispelling the silence, Tetra cuts through the tension with a sharp exhalation.

“Ahem. Shall we carry on, Commander?”

Snapping back into reality, Laela is immediately caught off guard.

“Ye– yes! Right! Grünamish, lead the way,” she stumbles, struggling to regain her composure.

“Right then,” Grünamish starts. “This way everyone.”

Inky darkness cloaks the land as the weary party stumbles upon Mestria Estate. The speckled shadows of the clearing vanish, replaced by an oppressive blackness hailed by Lord Ifrit’s departure. An unsettling silence hangs heavy, absent even of the rhythmic chirping crickets whose symphony guided the party along their journey just moments prior.

The imposing form of the Estate stands before them, enveloped in a thick mantle of brambles. The thorny vines, an unnatural shade of purple in the grove’s unearthly shadow, writhe and twist like serpents, fashioning a formidable barrier around the structure. A collective shiver runs through the party as they gaze upon it.

"This place..." Syvern mutters, his voice barely audible over the rasping of the brambles. A tremor of unease flickers across his face, mirroring the consternation that clings heavy in the air. Grünamish grunts in agreement, his burly frame bristling with unspoken tension.

“This better work, Grünamish,” Thaunaphyll growls, his nervous hand twitching over the hilt of his rapier. “Or I’ll be using you for tinder before we freeze to death out here.”

“Please, Thaunaphyll,” Laela interjects, “A modicum of respect…”

Having silenced Thaunaphyll, she takes a measured step towards the bramble wall, placing a delicate frond upon the oppressive bulwark. The thrum of mana coursing throughout her body dispels the tender stillness of the night air, saturating the space with a dull emerald glow.

“He-hello?” she whispers, lacing her voice with caution and reverence. “I don’t know if you can even hear me, Lady Hestevia, but I’m your great-granddaughter, Laela.”

The bramble seems to churn and tighten in response to Laela’s supplication.

“I– I know this would be considered a great transgression upon our people. But, my friends and I need a place to rest and shield ourselves from the cold for the night.”

The brambles' thorns begin to grow, with one stabbing through Laela’s unflinching hand.

“If it would please you, my Lady, could you allow us respite within the walls of your estate?”

Her entreaty is met with no response, and she lets out a heavy sigh as she removes her hand from the bramble. But as she’s about to announce her defeat, a pale green hue begins to emanate from the center of the bramble. With an unsettling creak, the thorns and vines part, revealing a narrow passage.

“Well, “ Tomi starts. “That seems favorable.”

The party steps into the courtyard, finding themselves bathed in an eerie green glow of floral magic. Towering above them is a prodigious Socotra; the hallowed testament to Hestevia’s sacrifice. Its branches, sprawling and gnarled like ancient claws, drape the central courtyard in a verdant tapestry.

Continuing down the courtyard’s stone path, Laela and her team stand in humble awe of the Estate itself. Its wood, a deep and rich brown, seems to absorb the abundant wisps of mana pouring out of Hestevia’s mausoleum. As their approach furthers,the group watches as Mestria begins to reveal its more intricate details.

The facade is a masterpiece of arboreal artistry. Vines, frozen in mid-curl, become swirling columns that flank its grand entrance. Hyacinths, petrified in perfect bloom, form intricate mosaics around arched doorways. Even the roofing, a cascade of perfectly tiled, carved wooden leaves, highlight yet another display of Verdatia’s master craftsmanship. Yet, despite its obvious age, the structure is eerily pristine. Not a single splinter mars the smooth surface, nor does a hint of rot blemish its flawless form.

With great care, Laela places her hands on the massive oaken doors. Struggling to push them open, they finally give way with a deafening groan that echoes throughout the courtyard. As they penetrate the threshold of the estate, a stale, dusty scent fills their nostrils, mingling with the faint, nauseating sweetness of decaying vegetation.

As their eyes adjust to dust and dark, the grandeur that had once resided within these halls discloses itself. Labyrinthine floral patterns embedded into the thick wooden walls seem to dance in the estate’s glimmering lights. Glowing moss, embedded in strategic crevices, cast a subtle luminescence, highlighting the ornate, wood-carved furniture crafted from knurled branches and ossified roots.

In stark defiance of the estate's undeniable beauty, an unsettling aura permeated the air. It felt as though the very walls were watching them, silent remnants of the manor’s bloodsoaked past. And the evergreen wood, untouched by time, seemed to mock their own mortality. Even surrounded by the marvels of her own lineage, Laela was unable to shake the unsettling sense of wrongness.

As she turned to address her party, a sense of weariness, and a marked foreboding clung to her voice like a shroud.

"Right then. I believe some rest is well in order.” Scanning the group, her eyes rest upon the youngest Verdatian. “Syvern, you take the first watch over Tetra. Wake me at the first sign of trouble."

Syvern nods and gives a sharp salute, his hand instinctively finding its grip on his trusty boomerang.

Laela pairs off with Tomi, and Thaunaphyll does the same with Grünamish, leaving Syvern and Tetra to find their encampment in one of the many rooms lining the halls of the estate. Finding a suitable sanctuary, Syvern shoves Tetra into a well furnished office, closing the door behind them.

“N– now don’t go causing me any trouble, alright darky?” Syvern points his boomerang at Tetra in a vain attempt to be imposing. “This here is a Verdatian burial ground, and I won’t hesitate to call upon my ancestors to help me kick your ass if you even think about doing anything unjust. Got it?”

Tetra gives Syvern a carmine smile as he props himself against a sturdy wooden desk and slides himself down towards the floor.

“Worry not, my friend. I won’t be of any trouble to you at all. Go ahead and find some rest. You won’t hear a peep out of me.”

Syvern ignores him as he finds a seat upon a plush couch opposite his quarry. Training his unwavering gaze on Tetra, his eyes begin to droop as the minutes turn to hours, and he falls into a deep slumber brought on by the allure of the estate and the hypnotic rhythm of scraping from across the room…