The mist clung to the ground as Nimrielle stepped out of her hut, her pack securely fastened across her back. The village remained silent in the early dawn, save for the faint creak of shutters swaying in the wind. She glanced toward the village square, but the sight of it only reminded her of the stony glares and averted gazes she’d received in recent weeks.

‘They won’t help me. They don’t trust me,’ she thought, gripping the strap of her pack tighter. ‘But this is my duty, regardless of what they think.’

The familiar path into the Forest of Astram welcomed her with its canopy of towering trees, their leaves shimmering faintly in the muted light. Yet something felt off. The forest had always thrummed with life, a gentle hum of insects and rustling branches. Now, it was eerily silent, the air heavy with a weight she couldn’t place.

As Nim made her way deeper into the forest, she began collecting herbs along the way. She spotted a cluster of Marrowthistle, their spiked leaves curling faintly at the edges. Kneeling, she pulled a pair of shears from her pack and began cutting.

‘I’ll need as much as I can carry,’ she thought, carefully tucking the bundle into a pouch. She glanced at the ground nearby and frowned. The soil was darker here, patches of grass blackened and brittle.

Her hands hovered over a Skybud plant, its bright petals drooping unnaturally. The discoloration spread across the stem like ink in water. She sighed. ‘It’s getting worse. How long before the corruption spreads beyond the forest?’

The memory of Yeva’s voice echoed in her mind: “The forest always tells you when something is wrong. You just have to listen.” Nim clenched her jaw. ‘I’m listening. I just don’t know what to do yet.’

The deeper she ventured, the stranger the forest became. The wind had vanished, yet branches swayed faintly as if moved by unseen hands. Nim paused, listening intently. Faint whispers curled through the air, indecipherable and haunting.

Her heart quickened. She knelt and pressed a hand to the soil. “Whispering Roots,” she murmured. Magic flowed from her fingertips, tendrils of energy burrowing into the ground like seeking vines.

A roll of the dice—a 16.

The spell worked smoothly, and the roots beneath her began to shift, revealing faint tremors in the earth nearby. Something was moving, slow and deliberate, but distant enough to pose no immediate threat. Nim released the spell and stood, her pulse steadying.

‘Whatever it is, it’s staying underground. For now.’

It wasn’t long before she stumbled upon the clearing. The sight made her stomach drop. The trees surrounding the area were twisted and blackened, their bark cracked and oozing dark sap. The ground was barren, the grass reduced to ash-like patches, and the air smelled of decay.

At the center of the clearing was a cluster of Heartvine, its usually vibrant green tendrils shriveled and gray. Nim approached cautiously, her fingers brushing the edge of her pack.

‘This… this is worse than I expected. If even Heartvine is succumbing, the forest is in real danger.’

She knelt by the plant and pulled out a vial of Astram Ivy. The faint glow of the ivy’s essence calmed her nerves as she began preparing a cleansing ritual. She drew a circle around the plant using a piece of chalk infused with crushed Sunroot, muttering the incantation Yeva had taught her.

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Nim raised her hands over the circle, focusing her energy. “Astram’s Embrace,” she intoned, releasing the spell.

A roll of the dice—a natural 20.

The circle flared to life, light spilling from the lines as her magic surged through the clearing. The oppressive air lifted, and the dark sap receded from the trees. The Heartvine’s withered tendrils unfurled, regaining their vibrant hue.

Nim exhaled shakily as she plucked a small fragment of the purified Heartvine, tucking it carefully into her pouch. The rest of the plant remained rooted, its color restored.

‘It worked,’ she thought, relief washing over her. ‘At least here, for now.’

As Nim stood, brushing dirt from her knees, she noticed something etched into the bark of a nearby tree. Deep claw marks, jagged and unnatural, scored the trunk. Her stomach turned.

‘These aren’t from any Etherling I’ve seen before,’ she thought, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her belt. The oppressive feeling crept back, the sensation of being watched prickling at her skin.

She took a step back, scanning the clearing. Nothing moved, but the silence was deafening. ‘This isn’t over. Whatever’s causing this, it’s stronger than I thought.’

With one last glance at the restored Heartvine, Nim adjusted her pack and began the trek back to her hut. The weight of the fragment in her pouch felt heavier than it should, a stark reminder of the forest’s growing peril.

The trek back to the village was slow, the forest’s stillness pressing against Nimrielle like a weight. Every step felt heavier, the purified fragment of Heartvine tucked safely in her pouch a bittersweet reminder of what she had accomplished—and what remained undone.

The clearing’s image lingered in her mind: the twisted bark, the claw marks, the suffocating darkness that had clung to the air. She glanced around as she walked, her sharp eyes scanning the forest floor.

‘The corruption runs deeper than I thought. Even the trees are struggling,’ she mused, watching as another patch of moss disintegrated into blackened dust under her feet. ‘How long before it reaches the village?’

The idea sent a chill through her, and she quickened her pace.

Cedorin’s gate came into view just as the sun began its slow descent behind the hills. The faint sound of laughter and conversation drifted from the village square, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of the forest. Nim hesitated at the edge of the trees, her fingers brushing the strap of her pack.

‘They’ll just turn their backs again,’ she thought bitterly. ‘They won’t care what I’ve done today.’

For a moment, she considered bypassing the village altogether and heading straight to her hut. But she shook her head, forcing herself forward.

‘I can’t afford to hide. Not now.’

She stepped into the open, the familiar cobbled paths crunching underfoot. Several villagers turned to glance her way, their expressions ranging from wary to indifferent. A young boy darted past her, his eyes widening slightly before he hurried on without a word.

Feyria, the baker, stood by her stall with her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Nim offered her a nod, but the woman didn’t respond, her gaze cutting sharply away.

Nim swallowed hard and kept walking.

By the time she reached her hut at the far edge of the village, the sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows across the clearing. She pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside, the faint scent of herbs and dried flowers greeting her.

She placed her pack on the table and carefully retrieved the Heartvine fragment, setting it beside a jar of Astram Ivy. For a moment, she simply stared at it, the vibrant green a striking contrast to the gloom she had carried back with her.

‘I should feel proud of this,’ she thought, running her fingers over the edges of the fragment. ‘But it’s not enough. Not yet.’

Her gaze flicked to the small window above her workbench, the distant outline of the forest visible in the fading light. She let out a slow breath and began unpacking the rest of her supplies, sorting through the herbs and ingredients she had gathered.

The sharp rap of knuckles against her door startled Nim from her work. She straightened, her heart quickening. Visitors were rare—especially since the Etherling attack.

“Come in,” she called, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest.

The door creaked open, and Isira stepped inside, her eyes darting around the room before settling on Nim. She hesitated, then offered a small, uncertain smile.

“I thought you might be back,” Isira said, closing the door behind her. She held a small bundle in her hands, wrapped in cloth.

Nim tilted her head. “What brings you here?”

Isira stepped closer, placing the bundle on the table. “It’s just… bread. I figured you wouldn’t have had time to eat.”

Nim’s eyes flicked to the bundle, then back to Isira. ‘She’s trying. Even after everything, she’s trying.’

“Thank you,” Nim said softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Isira replied, her gaze dropping to the table. “But it felt wrong not to.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words filling the room. Finally, Isira cleared her throat and took a step back.

“I should go. But… if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Nim nodded, her fingers brushing the edge of the Heartvine fragment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the door closed behind Isira, Nim turned back to her workbench. The bread remained untouched, but the gesture lingered in her mind, warming a corner of her heart she hadn’t realized had grown so cold.

‘Maybe… not everyone has turned away completely,’ she thought. But the bitterness quickly returned. ‘Even so, this is my burden to bear.’

She picked up the Heartvine fragment and began preparing it for study, the faint glow of lamplight illuminating her determined expression.