The morning broke quietly, the faint orange light spilling through the wooden slats of Nim’s window. She sat by her worktable, the rhythmic scrape of her knife slicing through a bundle of Skybud flowers filling the air. Their pale blue petals shimmered faintly, a reminder of the forest’s lingering magic, even in its weakened state. Nim’s hands moved with practiced precision, but her mind wandered.
'The villagers haven’t come by in days,' she thought, glancing toward the door. Her hut felt colder than usual, the emptiness pressing against her. 'Not that they would. To them, I’m more a danger than a healer now.'
She finished packing her supplies—a worn satchel filled with jars, cloth wraps, and a few scraps of bread she had managed to barter last week. The forest was calling again, and she had no choice but to answer.
The walk into the woods was both familiar and alien. Nim’s feet knew the paths by heart, yet every step carried her deeper into something new and unsettling. The air was heavier today, a faint metallic tang prickling at her senses. She paused at the base of a towering oak, its bark veined with blackened streaks that hadn’t been there the last time she passed.
'Another sign,' she thought grimly, brushing her fingers against the damaged surface. The tree’s energy felt sluggish, as though the life within it was being siphoned away. 'The Heartstone’s fracture is spreading faster than I realized.'
Further in, the subtle signs grew more frequent. Leaves were tinged with an unnatural silver sheen, brittle and curling at the edges. Small patches of earth lay bare, devoid of grass or moss, as though life had simply fled. Nim forced herself to keep moving, her eyes scanning for usable herbs among the decay.
In a small clearing, she finally found a patch of Skybud flowers, their vibrant hue standing out against the greying underbrush. Nim knelt carefully, her satchel set to the side as she worked to gather the blooms. The repetitive motion of plucking the stems gave her a brief reprieve, a chance to focus on something tangible.
The moment shattered when she felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air. She froze, her hand hovering over the next flower. The forest was silent, unnaturally so, and a chill crept along her spine. Slowly, she turned her head, her gaze sweeping the edge of the clearing.
There, half-hidden in the shadows, was a figure. Small, indistinct, and wrong. Its shape was fragmented, as though it were a patch of darkness given form, but flickering like a dying ember. Nim’s breath hitched as it moved, its jerky motions unnatural yet hesitant, like it was testing the boundaries of its existence.
'What are you?' she wondered, her pulse quickening. She didn’t dare move, didn’t even reach for the small vial of Astram Crystal in her bag. The creature didn’t advance, didn’t attack—it only watched, its hollow gaze fixed on her.
Minutes passed before it shifted again, melting back into the trees. Nim exhaled shakily, her fingers trembling as she finished harvesting the flowers. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but curiosity tugged at her resolve. 'I have to know,' she thought, tightening her grip on the satchel. 'If this is tied to the Heartstone, I need to understand it.'
She followed cautiously, her steps light against the forest floor. The creature left no trail, but the signs of corruption guided her. Trees were split open, their insides hollowed out as if something had devoured their cores. The ground grew colder, the faint hum of the forest’s magic now warped and discordant.
Eventually, she reached a part of the forest she didn’t recognize. The air here was thick, oppressive, and the faint hum she had noticed earlier had grown louder. It pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and laborious, as though the forest itself were struggling to stay alive.
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The creature was nowhere to be seen, but the damage it left behind was unmistakable. Nim knelt beside a patch of bare earth, pressing her hand to the soil. It felt lifeless, brittle and unresponsive to her touch.
'I can’t let this spread any further,' she thought, her jaw tightening. But the enormity of the task loomed over her, the weight of it settling heavily on her shoulders. 'I’ll need more than herbs and salves to fix this.'
The sun was dipping low by the time she returned to her hut. Exhaustion gnawed at her, both from the physical strain of foraging and the emotional toll of what she had seen. She set her satchel down and began sorting the herbs methodically, her movements mechanical.
The creature’s fragmented form haunted her thoughts, its hesitant movements and hollow presence lingering in her mind. 'It wasn’t like the Etherlings I’ve seen before,' she mused, staring at the freshly sorted Skybuds. 'It felt… incomplete, like something trying to exist but failing.'
As she prepared tinctures and poultices, her resolve solidified. She glanced toward the Heartvine tucked away on a shelf, its vibrant green leaves a stark contrast to the gloom outside.
“I’ll fix this,” she whispered to herself, the words barely audible but filled with determination. “No matter what it takes.”
She sat by the window that night, staring out at the forest as darkness swallowed it whole. The faint hum she had heard earlier seemed to echo in her mind, a reminder of the forest’s suffering—and her duty to heal it.
Nimrielle sat at her worktable, the scattered Skybud petals before her a pale, delicate blue. Their usual vibrant shimmer seemed dulled, as though the very essence of the forest's magic had begun to leech from them. She ran her fingers lightly over a particularly withered petal, her mind circling back to the fragmented creature she’d encountered earlier.
'It wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before,' she thought, her brows knitting together. 'It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t natural either.' She crushed the dried petal between her fingers, watching as it crumbled into an ashen powder. Even Skybuds, known for their resilience, were succumbing to whatever was poisoning the forest.
She sighed and began sorting her supplies, placing the salvageable petals into small glass jars and discarding the rest. The task was routine, calming in its simplicity, but it did little to settle the unease brewing within her. The blackened veins in the trees, the lifeless soil, the creature—it all pointed to something larger, something she couldn’t yet piece together.
Her gaze drifted to the shelf above her worktable, where a small vial containing Astram Ivy glowed faintly. It was one of the last ingredients Yeva had left behind, a potent enhancer for magic but dangerously volatile. Nim hesitated, her hand hovering near the vial.
'I might need it if I go deeper into the forest,' she thought, pulling her hand back reluctantly. 'But using it without preparation could do more harm than good.'
By the time she’d finished storing her herbs and packing her supplies for the next day, the sky outside had begun to darken. She was just settling into the quiet of the evening when a soft knock at the door broke the silence.
Nim froze, her heart skipping a beat. Visitors were rare these days, especially since the villagers had all but ostracized her. Slowly, she rose and opened the door to find Isira standing there, a small bundle clutched tightly in her hands.
“Nim,” Isira said hesitantly, her eyes darting around as though expecting someone to catch her. “I… I brought you something.”
Nim’s expression remained guarded, though she stepped aside to let Isira in. The young healer-in-training set the bundle on the table, unwrapping it to reveal a small loaf of bread and a handful of freshly picked herbs.
“I thought you might need these,” Isira said, her voice uncertain. “I know things have been… tense, but I wanted to help.”
Nim stared at the offerings, her porcelain-like fingers brushing over the rough texture of the bread. It was a kind gesture, but the weight of the village’s distrust still lingered between them.
“Thank you,” Nim said finally, her voice soft but distant.
Isira hesitated, as though waiting for more, but when none came, she shifted awkwardly. “If you need anything… anything at all, just let me know.”
Nim nodded, but the words felt hollow. She watched as Isira left, the door clicking shut behind her.
The quiet returned, heavier now, pressing against Nim like a suffocating blanket. She sat back at her table, her thoughts a tangled mess of gratitude, resentment, and longing. Isira’s gesture had been sincere, but it didn’t erase the isolation Nim felt or the weight of the village’s fear and suspicion.
As the evening deepened, a faint glow caught her attention through the window. She rose and moved closer, her breath catching as she saw it—a pale, otherworldly light emanating from deep within the forest.
'The Heartstone,' she realized, her pulse quickening. The glow wasn’t a good sign. It pulsed faintly, erratically, like a heartbeat struggling to maintain rhythm.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the windowsill. 'It’s getting worse,' she thought, a cold resolve settling over her. She couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever was happening to the forest was spreading faster than she’d anticipated, and the fragmented creature was only one piece of a larger puzzle.
Nim spent the rest of the evening preparing for the journey ahead. She packed carefully, tucking away her tools, tinctures, and the precious vial of Astram Ivy. Despite the gnawing fatigue in her limbs, she couldn’t bring herself to rest. The hum of the forest was louder now, a low, insistent thrum that vibrated in her very core.