In the stillness of the Arvendon outskirts, the monstrous Midnight Wolf lay trapped between two raised sections of the earthen road. The beast's struggle was futile against the binding force conjured from the Corporal's deft hand movements, which held it fast by its sides and four paws. Dilated pupils and crimson irises burned with primal fury, fixed upon the man responsible for its confinement. Drool mixed with white foam dripped from the wolf’s fangs, a rabid froth that gave evidence of its affliction—Madness.
The Corporal, whose name was Jorge, stood firm, the dirt of the road clinging to his hands as they manipulated the elements. His uniform was streaked with the same dust that now matted the wolf's once-glossy black fur. His chest heaved from the exertion as he let out a breath that spoke of both fatigue and relief.
“Almost flanked us, glad I turned when I did,” he murmured, keeping his focus on the ensnared creature and signaling for Lieutenant Erik, the troop leader, to approach with a subtle nod. “Looks to be infested with Madness, Ser.”
Lieutenant Erik, his countenance marked by the gravitas of command, acknowledged the situation with a nod as he extracted a slender glass cylinder from his pack. “I’ll need a blood sample, so if you please, have it face away from me,” he said, the metallic glint of the needle in his hand betraying the danger of their task.
“Of course, Lieutenant.” The corporal stared directly at the monster and moved his empty hands in front of him, almost wrapping around each other. As he did this, the floating creature performed an about face against its will, causing it to struggle attempting to move against the rotation.
As Erik approached the subdued creature, a pained howl cut through the air, and Jorge's forehead glistened with sweat—keeping the creature sealed was pushing his abilities to the limit.
“You got this,” encouraged Berretta, another member of he troop who walked up to support Jorge. Placing her hand reassuringly on Jorge's shoulder.
“Thanks,” the fatiguing man stated shortly.
With the monster's blood now filling the cylinder, its steamy exhalation clouded the space around them. “This is definitely Madness,” Erik declared, his voice a mix of urgency and concern. “The blood is practically boiling.”
Erik walked back to the caravan he had left. “Smith, grab me the container. Jorge, how are you holding up?” He looked to the man looking like he was holding his hands midway from a clap.
“Its struggling a lot more now that we ‘armed it. Its-” Jorge was cut off as the creature freed it’s two rear feet and was now digging at the earth surrounding its body. It released a howl that made the entire fifteen-man troop’s hair stand on end.
The creature’s howls grew more desperate, higher in pitch and longer with each subsequent howl. “It’s a Midnight Wolf!” Berretta exclaimed, recognizing the peril in its call for pack mates. “We must silence it quickly!”
“Quickly! I need another Grounder to muzzle that dog before the howl finishes,” called Erik.
A moment later, to the astonishment of all, Jorge’s eyes and hair flashed a deep navy blue—a sign of an Awakening, a surge of new power within him. With a renewed sense of control, he resealed the wolf, and the earth responded, encasing the beast once more and muffling its cry.
“An Awakening at my age... Can you believe it, Berretta?” Jorge’s voice, filled with wonder, belied the intensity of the moment though his eyes never left the wolf who was now more encased in earth.
“At 29?” Berretta replied with a teasing edge, a momentary lightness in the gravity of their mission. “You’re full of surprises. Most stop having them at 24.”
Erik returned to the caravan, ignoring the playful banter. He retrieved a container, opened it roughly, throwing the lid to the side and grabbed a bulbous package out of it. He unwrapped a portion of the package to reveal an oval with white liquid churning without him moving the package. Erik then twisted off the needle and replaced it with a new one. He then jabbed the cylinder’s new needle into the oval and injected the blood of the beast. The blood mixed and whirled around within the oval creating a pink liquid that gradually became orange.
“This unless you are an Auctian,” Erik mused aloud, his statement hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.
“Yeah, the first Soulbound were those octopus-like beings, right,” said Smith overhearing the comment as he was walking around Jorge to help. He lifted his hands and formed more pillars around Jorge’s cage. “Ones just like your sister, right Lieutenant Erik?”
“Aye!” Erik called back. He placed the silver needle next to an exposed part of the wolf and slipped it into the fur. The monster winced and struggled again but to no avail. He injected the orange substance into the beast and returned with an empty cylinder. “Abby’s one of ‘em. I’ll tell you the story on how my family adopted her and how I found her tonight while we camp. It’ll be better than Sam’s singing.”
"But first,” Erik's words refocused everyone on the mission ahead. “We need to help this creature," he said, re-grounding them to their duty. The tension in the air dissipated as the troop gathered their resolve for the task ahead.
“Hey, I haven’t broken any glass for at least two months!” called a female voice from the caravan.
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Smith and Jorge, their hands relaxed from their previous exertion, cautiously withdrew their influence over the earth surrounding the wolf. The once tightly bound earthen restraints crumbled away, allowing the exhausted creature to gently settle back onto the road. Its breaths came in shallow rhythms, its jet-black fur now a subdued shade of deep grey from the ordeal.
Their combined efforts soon calmed the Midnight Wolf, its fur now a subdued shade of grey. With a gentle release, they allowed the creature to regain its footing on the path it had violently been taken from.
As the troop continued on, unity and resolve defined their march. Erik’s thoughts lingered on the encounter; each beast they faced was a victim of an unseen war, a silent cry within the vastness of Arvendon they were sworn to protect. His gaze briefly returned to the wolf now disappearing into the thicket, a symbol of the untamed and the afflicted they sought to understand and save.
As they neared the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, an aura of anticipation enveloped them. The Sanctuary's threshold, marked by the Spiritbane Canopy, loomed ahead, promising a reprieve from their journey and the perils that lay beyond. The silhouettes of the ancient trees of the Wylde Wood etched a foreboding skyline, and a shared, silent acknowledgment passed among the troop. What lay ahead was the true essence of their mission, the trials that awaited them—veiled within the sanctuary's enigmatic heart and bound by the mysteries they were determined to unravel together.
Despite the lingering weight of their recent encounter, the troop pressed onward with a sense of unity and determination. The memory of the wolf remained heavy on their minds, a reminder of the challenges yet to come. Nevertheless, their shared commitment to their mission and each other fortified their spirits. Ready to confront whatever obstacles awaited, they continued their journey with steadfast resolve.
Erik looked back along the road at the now rising and stumbling wolf, who glanced confusingly around and began to wander off. Its size drastically smaller than when it was encased. He wished animals who were sick and had an Awakening didn’t become these mutated creatures. His troop was originally dispatched to join the main Legion and aid them in the current war with The Tyrant King and his army. However, their orders were changed last minute and were given a caravan to scope out the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, in search of what is causing these creatures to go mad. They had been on the road two days and the wolf from earlier was their tenth capture, sixth for that day alone.
No wonder Jorge had an awakening, Erik thought, they’re worn out already and our journey has just begun. His troop consisted of four Grounders, Soulbound whose abilities tie themselves to the earth; two Tidewalkers, Soulbound who are tied to water; and three Greenkeepers, ones that can utilize plants to their liking. The final six were non-Soulbound military personnel, including Erik. He cared for them all as if they were his family. “We’ll make camp once we reach the Spriritbane Canopy area, once we get into the Sanctuary proper it’ll be harder to do so. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”
A resounding, “Ser” and nods were what he heard and saw.
As they walked along the winding path, the landscape around them began to change. The lush greenery gave way to a dense forest, where sunlight struggled to penetrate through the thick canopy of leaves above. Erik again looked back from whence they came. There in the distance, above the horizon was the blurry outline of the top of the Kingdom of Arvendon. Erik knew the ever-watchful gaze of High King Sevas had probably made its way here at some point, but he sighed at the task assigned to him and moved with the rest of his troop. The air became heavy with a sense of anticipation, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for the group to make their move.
“Man, the Wylde Wood Sanctuary is sure something different from the greenery in the city,” stated Smith, walking alongside Berretta.
“That’s because these are natural grown trees that have been spirit protected for eons. There’s a reason the kingdom became the massive, towering city it is now. It couldn’t expand out, but up and down it could,” stated Sam. “Nothing like the seeds we use for the greenery in the city. They’ve been so modified that some Greenkeepers can’t utilize them, almost like they aren’t even plants.” She was walking next to Jorge as they began to enter the forest.
Erik, taking up the rear thought about the city they had left not too long ago. The Kingdom of Arvendon, an anchor-shaped hive city emerged on the horizon, its silhouette dominating the landscape like a colossal monument to ingenuity and power. If you looked from above, it would look as if eight giant anchors had been sunk into the ground all at once. This was to provide stability to the central shaft and allow for expansion if needed. Points of the anchor stuck out of the volcanic crater it was built into.
At its foundation, nestled within the volcanic crater, lay the sprawling base of the city. A labyrinth of bustling streets and structures carved into the cooled magma rock. The lower levels thrived with the heartbeat of the working class. A hive of activity where artisans, laborers, and families carved out lives amidst the warmth of geothermal vents and Soulbound-imbued machinery.
Rising above the base, the anchor's points soared skyward, grand spires adorned with opulent architecture and vibrant colors. Here, the aristocracy resided, their luxurious estates and ornate towers overlooking the city. A testament to their elevated status within Arvendon's stratified society.
The central shaft, an awe-inspiring pinnacle, jutted proudly from the heart of the city, reaching out towards the heavens. At its peak stood the regal residence of the High King, a fortress-like structure crowned with shimmering enchantments and banners bearing the kingdom's sigil, an anchor surrounded by a dragon. From this vantage point, the ruler surveyed the vast expanse of the kingdom, ever watchful over the kingdom's subjects and its lands.
Amidst the city's tiers, soulbound individuals would move with purpose, their powers intertwined with the city's mechanisms. Their presence was evident in the intricate runes etched into the walls, the glowing conduits channeling geothermal energy, and the occasional display of magical prowess that flickered within their auras.
The air hummed with the harmonious blend of magic and technology. The distant sounds of arcane machineries and soulbound workers resonating through the bustling metropolis. Steam billowed from vents, and the warm glow of enchantments illuminated the vibrant streets, casting an otherworldly radiance across the city.
Yet, amidst the grandeur and the ceaseless hum of activity, pockets of tension simmered beneath the surface. The divide between social classes was evident, as the shadows of disparity loomed between the opulent spires and the crowded alleys of the base. And crowded they were as the kingdom boasted a population nearing 3 billion residents.
However, the place his troop was entering now was completely different. As the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting a hazy orange glow that filtered through the dense foliage of the Spiritbane Canopy, a sense of eerie tranquility enveloped Erik's troop. They stood at the entrance of the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, an ancient and mystical realm that stood in stark contrast to the structured chaos of the hive city they had left behind.
The Spiritbane Canopy, the threshold into the Sanctuary, offered a somewhat safer haven compared to the untamed wilderness within. Here, the forest's canopy filtered the fading light, casting elongated shadows that danced across the forest floor, veiling the surroundings in an early cloak of darkness.
Normal forest sounds — the rustling of leaves, chirping of birds, and distant calls of unseen creatures — intermingled with the gentle whispers of the wind weaving through the ancient trees. Yet, an underlying tension lingered, a sense that they were merely at the edge of a world brimming with ancient spirits and enigmatic creatures.
Despite their exhaustion from the day's endeavors of capturing and saving Madness-induced animals, Erik's troop moved with a sense of cautious reverence as they settled within the Spiritbane Canopy. They knew that within the depths of the Sanctuary, the environment would be vastly different — inhabited by spirits, monsters, and untamed forces of nature.
The three Greenkeepers and four Grounders among them immediately set to work, using their elemental abilities to manipulate earth and plants. They fashioned rudimentary shelters and facilities, weaving vines and branches to create protective enclosures for the night, an attempt to bring some semblance of safety amidst the unknown.
As darkness enveloped the edges of the Spiritbane Canopy, the troop settled in, their campsite nestled within the ancient grove. The juxtaposition between the hive city's structured order and the primordial wilderness of the Sanctuary loomed as a shadow, promising both danger and intrigue as they prepared to venture deeper into the Wylde Wood at first light. Embracing the unknown that awaited them beyond the threshold of the Spiritbane Canopy. Erik felt a sense of dread that he could quite shake off as they set down around the fire.