Thornwood Pass proved true to its name—a narrow valley where ancient trees gave way to dense, twisted bushes covered in vicious thorns. The earthquake had affected this area as well, creating treacherous footing where the ground had split and shifted.
Adrian moved with cautious efficiency, scanning the underbrush for the distinctive purple flowers Karl had described. The journal had been specific about habitat—partial shade, near water but not in it, often growing at the base of larger trees.
The silver rune on his arm remained inert but felt unusually warm, as if responding to something in the environment. Adrian found himself unconsciously using that warmth as a guide, moving toward areas where the sensation intensified slightly.
After several hours of careful searching, he spotted a cluster of purple blooms nestled between the exposed roots of an ancient oak. Their stems gleamed crimson in the dappled sunlight, exactly matching the journal's illustration.
Adrian donned the heavy leather gloves he'd salvaged from Karl's supplies, approaching the deadly plant with appropriate caution. As he knelt to harvest the Bloodroot, the hairs on the back of his neck rose—the unmistakable sensation of being watched.
Slowly, keeping his movements casual, Adrian glanced around the small clearing. Nothing moved among the thorny bushes, yet the feeling of observation intensified. His hand drifted to Wind Howl's hilt.
The attack came not from the bushes but from above—a dark shape dropping from the oak's branches with predatory precision. Adrian rolled sideways on pure instinct, narrowly avoiding the massive talons that slashed through the space he'd occupied a heartbeat earlier.
He came up in a fighting crouch, sword drawn, facing his attacker. The creature defied easy categorization—roughly humanoid in shape but covered in feathers rather than skin, with a raptor's head atop a torso corded with lean muscle. Its wings extended partially from elongated arms ending in vicious talons, while its legs resembled those of a massive bird of prey.
A harpy, Adrian realized, though unlike any depicted in Astor's bestaries. This was no mere animal but an intelligent predator, its eyes tracking him with calculated malice as it circled for another strike.
"I mean no harm," Adrian called, maintaining his guard position. "I only seek the plant."
The harpy responded with a shriek that might have been laughter, launching itself toward him with incredible speed. Wind Howl sang through the air as Adrian parried the creature's talons, the enchanted blade leaving a shallow cut across one clawed hand.
The harpy recoiled, screeching in pain and surprise. Dark blood dripped from its wounded talon as it retreated to a higher branch, eyes now wary where before they had held only hunger.
Adrian used the moment to assess his situation. The Bloodroot remained tantalizingly close, but the harpy blocked his path. Fighting in this confined space against an aerial opponent presented significant disadvantages. Worse, the creature's initial shriek had been answered by distant calls—more of its kind were nearby.
Time was Karl's enemy. Every moment Adrian delayed meant the old hunter's life ebbed further away. He couldn't afford a protracted encounter.
"Last chance," Adrian called to the creature. "Let me take what I need and leave. No one else needs to be hurt."
The harpy's response was to launch itself at him again, this time joined by two more of its kind diving from neighboring trees. Adrian reacted with the precision his Academy training had burned into muscle memory, Wind Howl becoming a silver blur as he deflected the coordinated attack.
But three-to-one odds against aerial opponents in confined space proved as difficult as Adrian had feared. He managed to wound one attacker and drive back another, but the third harpy's talons found purchase, raking across his back and sending him stumbling forward.
Adrian pivoted, turning the stumble into a controlled roll that brought him beneath the Bloodroot. As talons slashed toward his face, he made a split-second decision—one born of desperation and Karl's fading chances.
Wind Howl flashed upward, catching the diving harpy in mid-attack. Simultaneously, Adrian's gloved hand closed around the Bloodroot's stem, yanking it free from the soil with its crucial roots intact.
Victory was momentary. Even as Adrian tucked the plant into his leather pouch, a searing pain erupted in his chest. The harpy he'd wounded first had circled behind, driving its talons through his back with enough force to puncture his lung and emerge from his sternum.
Adrian gasped, blood filling his mouth as the creature lifted him partially off the ground with unnatural strength. Through the haze of agony, one thought remained clear—the leather pouch containing the Bloodroot was secure at his belt. If he died now, it would resurrect with him.
The harpy shrieked triumphantly, withdrawing its talons with a wet, tearing sound that Adrian felt more than heard as his consciousness began to fade. He collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, the silver rune on his arm beginning its now-familiar glow.
His last thought before darkness claimed him was a simple apology to Karl, whose life now depended on how quickly Adrian could return after resurrection.
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Adrian gasped back to consciousness exactly where he'd fallen, the taste of his own blood still fresh in his mouth though his body showed no wound. The harpies were gone—likely believing their prey permanently dispatched—leaving the clearing eerily silent.
As he pushed himself upright, Adrian noticed something different about this resurrection. His vision seemed altered, the world around him overlaid with faint patterns of light—energy flows he'd never perceived before. The trees, the thorny bushes, even the scattered rocks all pulsed with subtle luminescence visible only to his enhanced sight.
Most notably, the Bloodroot plants—for he could now see several more clusters previously hidden from his normal vision—glowed with a distinctive crimson aura that marked them as clearly as a beacon. Adrian realized with a start that he was perceiving the magical properties of his surroundings, the "natural affinity" the Academy had so feared now somehow awakened by his latest death.
The leather pouch containing his harvested specimen remained at his belt, intact and secure. Adrian checked the position of the sun—only an hour or so lost to death and resurrection. He could still make it back to Karl before nightfall if he pushed himself.
Rising to his feet, Adrian noticed another change—his body felt lighter somehow, more responsive, as if his reaction time had improved fractionally. He tested this by drawing Wind Howl in a quick motion, the blade seeming to flow into his hand faster than ever before.
The Évermark pulsed once on his forearm, then settled into its dormant state. Something was changing with each death, just as Karl's grandfather had documented. Adrian was becoming... more. The question of whether that transformation would eventually include the madness the journal described remained uncomfortably unanswered.
Adrian shook off these concerns, focusing on the immediate task. Karl needed the Bloodroot. Everything else could wait.
He harvested three more plants—the process much easier now that he could see their distinctive energy signature—and secured them in separate pouches to minimize the risk of damage during his return journey.
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The path back seemed clearer somehow, as if the subtle energy flows Adrian now perceived served as a map overlaid on the physical terrain. He made excellent time, avoiding several hazardous areas his enhanced perception identified before he physically encountered them.
Halfway back to Karl's destroyed cabin, Adrian's new senses flared a warning moments before the ground beneath him gave way. The earthquake had undermined this section of trail, creating a sinkhole that opened suddenly beneath his weight.
Adrian fell, surrounded by collapsing earth and stone, landing hard on a rocky shelf twenty feet below. Pain exploded through his body as a jagged rock speared through his thigh, pinning him in place. Blood poured from the wound, pooling around him as he fought to remain conscious.
"Not again," he growled through gritted teeth, examining the impossible situation. The stone had impaled his leg completely, emerging from the other side slick with his blood. No human could free themselves from such an injury, let alone climb out with a ruined limb.
Adrian made a cold calculation. Death and resurrection would be faster than any attempt to free himself conventionally. Karl needed the Bloodroot within hours, not days.
With grim determination, Adrian drew his hunting knife. Wind Howl would be quicker, but he couldn't risk damaging the Bloodroot pouches secured at his belt in what would likely be a violent death.
"Forgive me, Karl," he murmured, positioning the blade against his throat. "This is the fastest way back to you."
A swift, decisive motion opened his carotid artery. Adrian's world narrowed to pulsing darkness within seconds, the Évermark flaring brilliant silver as death claimed him once more.
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His third resurrection that day came with unexpected clarity. Adrian awoke instantly alert, the disorientation of previous returns notably absent. He lay at the bottom of the sinkhole, the stone that had impaled him now merely a geological feature rather than his executioner.
More significantly, his perception had sharpened further. The energy patterns he'd noticed after his second death now appeared in vivid detail—ley lines of natural power flowing through the earth beneath him, the distinctive signatures of various plants and minerals, even the fading echo of his own life force where it had spilled minutes before.
Adrian rose to his feet, confirming that the precious Bloodroot pouches remained intact. Looking up at the crumbled edges of the sinkhole, he assessed his escape options with new insight. Where before he would have seen merely dirt and stone, he now perceived patterns of stability and weakness—a literal map of the safest climbing route highlighted in his enhanced vision.
The climb proved remarkably straightforward with his new perception. Hand and footholds that would have been invisible to normal sight presented themselves clearly, allowing Adrian to scale the twenty-foot wall in mere minutes despite its treacherous composition.
Once on solid ground, Adrian paused to examine himself more thoroughly. Beyond the enhanced perception, he noticed his movements felt more precise, his body responding with subtle improvements in coordination and strength. The Évermark had changed him again—not dramatically, but measurably.
Most concerning was a new awareness of fragmented memories surfacing in his consciousness like bubbles in a pond. Faces he'd forgotten, conversations long past, training sessions at the Academy—all returning with crystal clarity where before they'd been lost to time.
Karl's grandfather had documented this phenomenon in his journal. Each death thinned the barriers between memory and consciousness, between past and present. The woman he'd studied had eventually become overwhelmed by these returning memories, unable to distinguish between different periods of her existence.
Adrian pushed these concerns aside, focusing on the immediate goal. The sun was beginning its westward descent—he needed to reach Karl before nightfall.
With renewed determination, Adrian set a punishing pace. His enhanced perception allowed him to choose the most efficient route through the difficult terrain, avoiding hazards that might have caused further delays or injuries. Wind Howl hummed softly at his side, the enchanted blade seeming to resonate with the magical energies Adrian could now perceive around him.
The journey back took half the time Adrian had expected. As he approached the clearing where Karl's ruined cabin lay, the sun still hung above the horizon, painting the forest in hues of gold and amber. Grim announced his return with a low bark, the hound rising from his vigilant position beside his master.
Karl lay where Adrian had left him, though his condition had clearly deteriorated. The old hunter's skin had taken on a grayish cast, his breathing shallow and labored. His eyes, when they flickered open at Adrian's approach, held the glassy unfocus of someone slipping away.
"You... made it," Karl whispered, his voice barely audible.
"I told you I would," Adrian replied, immediately setting to work preparing the Bloodroot. Karl's journal had provided precise instructions for creating a poultice from the plant's roots while neutralizing its toxic elements with specific techniques.
As Adrian worked, he found another unexpected benefit of his enhanced perception—he could actually see the medicinal properties of the plant as distinctive energy patterns. This allowed him to separate the healing essence from the toxic components with unprecedented precision, creating a remedy far more potent than would have been possible with normal senses.
"You've changed," Karl observed weakly, watching Adrian's methodical work. "Your eyes... different."
Adrian paused, realizing Karl could somehow perceive the changes in him. "I died twice more to bring this back to you," he admitted, applying the finished poultice to Karl's abdominal wound. "Each time, I returned... different."
Karl managed a pained smile. "The mark... strengthens with each crossing." His gnarled hand weakly grasped Adrian's wrist. "Be careful... easy to lose yourself."
Adrian prepared a tea from the remaining Bloodroot, carefully removing the toxic elements before helping Karl drink the bitter liquid. According to the journal, this combination—external poultice and internal tea—would slow the internal bleeding and fight infection long enough to potentially reach the healer Karl had mentioned.
""You need to find someone—Elara. She is deep in the forest.", Karl said , Adrian assess Karl's condition with both mundane and magical senses. The old hunter's life force appeared as a flickering flame to Adrian's enhanced vision—still present but dangerously weak. "The Bloodroot will help, but you need proper healing."
Karl's eyes drifted closed, the poultice and tea already making him drowsy. "Three standing stones," he murmured. "Southeast... follow the river..."
Adrian worked through the night, constructing a sturdy travois from salvaged cabin timbers. Karl slept fitfully, the Bloodroot providing some relief though his condition remained grave. Grim stayed protectively at his master's side, occasionally looking toward Adrian with an almost human understanding in his amber eyes.
As dawn approached, Adrian was struck by another wave of returning memories—these more vivid and intrusive than those that had come before. He found himself momentarily lost in a battlefield scene from years ago, the sounds of clashing steel and dying men so real he actually drew Wind Howl before recognizing the flashback for what it was.
"Getting worse," Adrian muttered to himself, sheathing his sword with a trembling hand. Three deaths in one day had accelerated whatever process the Évermark triggered. The boundaries between past and present, between memory and reality, were growing thinner with each resurrection.
When first light touched the forest canopy, Adrian carefully transferred Karl to the travois. The old hunter had survived the night—a victory in itself—though his condition remained critical. The Bloodroot poultice had stemmed the worst of the bleeding, but infection threatened, and his broken bones needed proper setting.
"We're leaving," Adrian told Karl, securing him with blankets against the morning chill. "Grim and I will get you to Elara."
Karl's eyes opened briefly, surprising Adrian with their clarity. "My grandfather's... journal. Take it." A weak cough interrupted his words. "Answers you... need."
Adrian secured the precious book in his pack, along with what few supplies he'd managed to salvage from the cabin's wreckage. The journey ahead would be challenging—three days through unfamiliar territory with a critically injured man and limited provisions.
Yet as Adrian began pulling the travois, Grim trotting protectively alongside, he felt an unexpected sense of purpose. For the first time since awakening in this transformed world, his path seemed clear. Not just in the immediate goal of saving Karl, but in the gradual understanding of his own condition.
The Évermark pulsed gently on his forearm as Adrian set a careful pace, navigating by both the rising sun and the energy flows he could now perceive beneath the forest floor. Each death had changed him, bringing both enhanced capabilities and disturbing memory fragments. The journal might hold answers about what those changes meant—and what he might eventually become.
Behind them, the ruins of Karl's cabin disappeared among the trees, another life lost to time. Ahead lay Elara's valley with its three standing stones—and perhaps answers to questions Adrian was only beginning to formulate.
The path unfurled before them, dappled with morning light and threaded with currents of energy only Adrian could see. He adjusted Karl's position on the travois, checked Wind Howl's familiar weight at his hip, and continued forward, drawn by both immediate necessity and ancient purpose.
The silver mark on his arm hummed with quiet power, a constant reminder that death—for Adrian Felton—was merely a doorway. And he had only just begun to explore what waited on the other side.