The warmth of a smile still lingers on my lips. The elf I’d spotted earlier while joking with Groboln, Lyrel, finally let out a soft, crystalline laugh at my last quip. Her piercing, enigmatic eyes occasionally flit to the shadows of the woods, but she doesn’t seem disinterested. I’ve always had a knack for creating these moments, even in the most absurd situations. And her company is far more charming than Groboln’s.

Just as I prepare to follow up with another remark, a strange sensation sweeps through us. The forest stops—abruptly. Not a natural transition. No. A boundary, almost perfect, as if an invisible line had split the world in two. On one side: life. Massive trees with vibrant foliage, twisting roots, and a calm yet living stillness.

On the other: unimaginable desolation.

Trees reduced to charred skeletons, their crowns shattered, their trunks twisted at impossible angles. The ground, blackened and cracked, looks scorched to its very essence. Among the chaos lie gigantic fragments of metal, some as tall as towers, others embedded deep into the earth. Their surfaces glimmer faintly, marked with strange grooves, as though these debris were both machines and nightmarish relics.

“By the gods…” Lyrel breathes, her eyes wide with awe and fear.

I can only stand there, frozen, my thoughts swirling in a cacophony of confusion. This isn’t just a field of ruins. It’s as if an entire fragment of something else crashed here, a raw, incomprehensible force leaving behind a landscape devoid of natural order.

The inquisitors, however, remain unnervingly calm. Kael Margonos, their leader, stands at the forefront, as still as a statue. His brown eyes sweep across the scene with an almost supernatural intensity. Yvanna, the kingdom’s mage, is further back, deep in conversation with important-looking men from the army.

Captain Eldan Rochefer, a few paces away, clears his throat, his gruff voice betraying poorly concealed nerves.

“What in the name of sanity is this?”

No one answers. Because no one knows.

I glance at Lyrel. Her sharp, mocking expression from earlier is now distant, absorbed by the vastness before us. Behind me, I spot Groboln and Salina exchanging grim looks.

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We take a few more hesitant steps, and my boots stop right at the edge of the boundary between the vibrant forest and the devastation. This stark demarcation strikes me even harder than the scene itself. How can a transition so precise exist? This isn’t the work of fire or a mere impact. It’s…

“Unnatural,” says a voice behind me, echoing my thoughts. I turn and meet the gaze of a mage, his trembling hands clutching the tip of his sword. He gestures toward the metallic debris. The entire column seems to bottleneck at this line, as if an invisible barrier halts our progress.

Kael Margonos finally turns to the column. His voice rises, cold and unyielding:

“We move forward.”

The living forest is behind us. The field of ruins stretches endlessly ahead. It’s terrifying, and what’s equally unsettling is the absence of leadership from Captain Eldan. The inquisitor’s words alone reignite the group’s momentum.

My eyes lock onto Eldan, the royal insignia gleaming on his armor. He abruptly turns, his icy gaze fixed on the elderly scout. His voice cracks like a whip through the oppressive silence:

“You didn’t tell us about this, old hunter!”

The poor man, Dornal, a seasoned veteran of the forest, steps back, pale as death. His wild beard seems to quiver with him. He stammers before mustering the courage to respond:

“I… I… I never came through the north! To the west, there’s no such chaos, Commander!”

His voice carries the rough accent of forest hunters, but it wavers with fear. Eldan steps closer, towering over Dornal, who seems to shrink under his gaze. If the hunter tells the truth, he must have returned to Benamire by the smaller Volgar forest.

“I know this place like the back of my hand, but what lies here… it’s nothing natural! You saw it, same as I did. Even the animals avoid this place!” Dornal continues, desperate to justify himself.

The exchange is cut short by a guttural sound—something inhuman. Every head snaps toward the source: a mound of metallic debris collapses with a thunderous crash, sending a cloud of ash and dust into the air. From the wreckage emerges a colossal figure, and my breath catches in my throat.

A troll. But not like any I’ve ever seen. This one is monstrous, its body marred by fire and wounds. Its gray-black skin is cracked like a field of frozen lava. Shards of metal are embedded in its flesh, some faintly reflecting light. A stench of burnt flesh reaches us, choking and suffocating.

“Formation!” Captain Eldan Rochefer shouts, his voice sharp and commanding. He’s already moved away from Dornal.

But the troll, despite its apparent injuries, moves with terrifying speed. With a roar that shakes the very air, it charges toward the column, hurling chunks of debris like projectiles. One flies just over my head, slamming into a soldier behind me and sending him sprawling.

“Scatter!” Kael Margonos barks, his tone glacial but authoritative.

Soldiers raise their shields, but chaos erupts. Some trip as they try to dodge its onslaught.

Lyrel, beside me, grips her bow, her eyes glowing with intense focus.

“Albion! That thing’s insane!” Salina shouts.

“No shit!” I reply, already drawing my blade as adrenaline surges through me. We’re not trained to face creatures like this.