An equine beast moved gracefully across the stream, its steps so delicate that not a single ripple disturbed the water's surface as it lowered its head to drink.

There was no mistaking it – this was indeed a kezok. Its pale fur was marked by vivid red stripes, and its tail was formed by numerous slender tendrils that swayed gently with its movements. Most striking of all were its blank, foreboding black eyes and the two antlers sprouting from its head – the very feature that made it such a prized and valuable creature.

A sudden rustle in the underbrush spooked the kezok, and crimson began to seep from its red stripes, as if issuing a warning.

Without hesitation, it bolted – not by galloping, but by bending the very fabric of space, disappearing and reappearing a distance away from its original position.

The kezok possessed an extraordinary ability to traverse through space effortlessly, as well as gliding across water without so much as a ripple to mark its passage.

‘Nifty trick,’ Riniock muttered, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched the kezok teleport. ‘Though it’s not without its drawbacks.’

Once again, the knowledge he had gained outside the glades proved invaluable.

‘A kezok uses its blink ability in a very linear way,’ he recalled, ‘which means it’s possible to predict where it’ll reappear...’

Wasting no time, Riniock began devising a strategy, determined to act before the elusive creature vanished from sight, potentially forever.

Riniock burst from his hiding spot, his movements brisk and deliberately exaggerated. The sudden commotion startled the kezok, prompting it to blink away instantly – exactly as he had planned.

He maintained pursuit.

Riniock's gaze wasn’t fixed solely on the fleeing kezok. Instead, his focus was split equally – half tracking the creature’s movements and half calculating the most likely spot it would teleport to next if it sensed further danger.

Once confident in his calculations, Riniock dove headfirst towards the kezok. Predictably, the creature teleported away in the blink of an eye.

‘Gotcha!’ he celebrated, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he performed a quick roll to soften his landing.

The moment his feet were steady, Riniock drew his wand. With a swift motion, he conjured a frost cloud that surged towards the spot where he aimed the wand’s tip. The spell crystallised the targeted spot into a slick sheet of ice.

Right on cue, and in perfect alignment with Riniock's meticulous planning, the kezok emerged directly onto the ice. Unable to find footing, its hooves lost all traction, sending it sliding uncontrollably across the ice before being flung over the dirt. It tumbled down a steep hill, only to crash face first into a tree with a resounding thud.

Even better, the impact drove the beast's antlers deep into the whitewood of the tree, leaving it thoroughly stuck and unable to escape.

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Like the verdack, the kezok thrashed violently, kicking and stomping in an attempt to free itself from the tree. Each stomp sent smoke-like puffs billowing in the air. Strangely, these vapours only seemed to agitate the creature further. The kezok became more frenzied and uncontrollable within the minute.

‘What the –’ breathed Riniock as his words trailed off, pushing cautiously forward, one foot at a time, unsure of what unfolded. The substance in the air was invisible to his eyes no matter how much he squinted.

The equine beast finally tore itself free, but not without a steep price – it left its two ornate antlers behind, embedded in the tree still. When it teleported away, it was evident that it grew disoriented, its movements erratic. The kezok stumbled upon reappearing, its usual grace replaced by shaky, unsteady steps.

It vanished within the darkness of the grove.

Riniock did not give chase – his quarry remained here, lodged deeply into the bark of a whitewood. Riniock yanked the antlers free and quickly stashed them away.

Yet, as his hand touched the first antler, he felt an unsettling shift in reality. The ornate piece resonated with a dark, pulsating glow, casting a faint aura unlike anything he had ever seen.

‘That’s strange,’ he muttered, narrowing his eyes. ‘I don’t remember reading about any such effects. The antlers of a kezok shouldn’t emit particles, let alone glow.’

His confusion deepened when the world around him began to warp. The sky turned an unnatural crimson, though the sun still hung high. Nearby trees twisted grotesquely, their trunks morphing into faces with hollow eyes and gaping maws. The grass swayed and danced, unnaturally alive despite the absence of wind.

‘What in the restless void…what is happening?’ Riniock murmured, his breath hitching as his surroundings grew more surreal by the second.

He forced himself to observe his distorted environment, noting additional anomalies. Dandelion-like puffs hovered unnaturally still in midair, each adorned with a massive, suffocating red eye that glared directly at him.

Recognition struck him like a blow.

‘Celseeds,’ he noticed, the weight of realization dawning on him. ‘I must be hallucinating… that’s the only explanation.’

The volatile celseeds appeared to be arranged in a deliberate pattern, forming a strange, meandering path. The trail stretched ahead of Riniock, its destination obscured by the warped and shifting surroundings.

He had no choice but to follow. This was no ordinary illusion he could simply dispel or ignore. The glades themselves had revealed this path, and to him, that could only mean one thing: he was meant to traverse it.

As he stepped forward, his unease deepened. The image of Bohg, the acolyte with the lidthrag’s gaping wound across his chest, loomed in his thoughts.

‘I just hope I won’t suffer a fate similar to his,’ Riniock shuddered at the thought, gripping his wand tighter as he moved into the unknown.

The path stretched endlessly before Riniock, dense with celseeds in numbers that defied logic. Their silent, floating forms hovered with unnerving intent, and occasionally, one would drift toward him in a curious, almost playful manner.

When they brushed against him, nothing seemed to happen. Yet, some clung to his clothes, like tiny hitchhikers unwilling to let go.

As he trudged on, the end of the trail began to materialize in the distance.

The path of celseeds led him to a part of the glades where fauna was sparse, but flora thrived in overwhelming abundance. There, an ancient tree stood sentinel, its gnarled roots cutting through the dirt and sprawling across the surface like skeletal fingers.

The tree was unmistakable, its wood pale as bone and its leaves a vivid crimson, echoing the colours of its progeny scattered throughout the glades.

Within its pallid embrace, something stirred. A titanic black eye snapped open, dominating the hollow at the heart of the tree.

Riniock froze as the creature revealed itself – a monstrous entity seamlessly camouflaged within the ancient tree. Its globular body was studded with writhing tendrils that extended outwards like grotesque banners. They trailed beneath its bulk, gripping the earth with a slow, deliberate pull as it began to move.

Riniock’s limbs trembled uncontrollably at the sight.

‘A–A–Ce–Cel…’ his lips barely formed the words. ‘…a Celspore!’