It was the next morning, and Erik woke before dawn. He prepared for the day and left his tent. Most of his troop were still sleeping, so he went to work disassembling his tent. He then rekindled the campfire to get started on breakfast.

Nat walked up to Erik and took a seat. “This is the first time I’ve been to the Wylde Wood Sanctuary,” he stated as he took his book and pen out and began writing in it. He looked up and stared into the entrance of the sanctuary. “But I’ll let you know something, that place is full of spirits. Do you think they’re the cause of the Madness?”

“Maybe, can’t rule it out,” Erik took a pan out and some potted meat. As he sliced the meat and placed them in the pan, sizzling and stream worked its way into the atmosphere. “What I wonder is this: Why we have the cure so fast if this epidemic among animals just became an issue.”

“Hmmm…,” Nat stopped writing and stroked his goatee. “Perhaps it was a cure to something similar. Something like rabies? The Madness sure looks like it, just more,” he paused and raised his hands to his chest and used them to emphasize his next word. “Spiritual!”

“So, a spirit is tampering with them? Purposefully making beasts into monsters by pseudo-awakening them?”

“I got that feeling, but you’re the one who has to figure these things out.”

“Listen if you ever get to be Abby’s Narrator, please give her no clues whatsoever. Then I can hold it over her that I’m smarter.”

“Deal, but you forget I tend to just voice your inner thoughts to help you process them.”

“Sometimes, I feel I have more than one personality when you’re around.” Erik said while he flipped some of the meat in the pan. “Especially when you do goofy things or find something new, and I have to pretend I don’t see you.”

“Oh, like the time Sam’s story was going too long and I took the pan and tried to hit her with it? Then you jumped up and caught it then looked like you were gonna hit her with it? That, …….was hilarious.”

Erik chuckled at the memory, the camaraderie with Nat lightening the weight of their shared experiences. As the aroma of breakfast filled the air, as he continued to add things to the pan. Soon a sizable breakfast had formed and he had began to box up some of the meals. He placed complete meals outside tents and returned to continue making more for the rest of the troop. Soon the entire troop began to stir from their slumber. Sam, Berretta, and Jorge emerged from their tents, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"Morning, Lieutenant," Berretta greeted, a hint of curiosity in her eyes as she opened the meal boxes he had made. “Breakfast smells good.”

Erik nodded, maintaining his focus on the cooking. "Morning. Eat up; we've got a long day ahead of us."

Nat continued writing in his book, occasionally glancing up at the surroundings. As the troop gathered around the campfire, none the wiser of the guest sitting among them. Erik dished out the food to the remaining troop members and they all sat together to eat. The conversations flowed, blending the seriousness of their mission with moments of camaraderie, and deeper understanding of their leader. Those who listened to his story by the campfire felt more trust in their leader than they had the previous day. The Wylde Wood Sanctuary, with its ancient trees and mystical ambiance, held an air of mystery that both captivated and unsettled the troop. Deconstructing the campsite took less time than Erik expected, and soon the prepared troop before the entrance to the Wylde Wood Sanctuary.

An hour later, the troop had ventured deep into the heart of the Wylde Wood Sanctuary. The forest floor was carpeted with stones and fungi, creating an otherworldly landscape beneath the towering trees. Natural sunlight struggled to penetrate the dense canopy, but the sanctuary's mystical ambiance was upheld by the soft glow of luminescent moss that adorned the ancient trunks.

"Odd that there is nothing here. No monsters, nor animals. Just fledgling spirits playing everywhere," Sam commented, her voice carrying a touch of confusion. As she voiced her observations about the lack of monsters and animals in the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, a sense of realization dawned upon her. The forest, initially thought to be teeming with life, now revealed an eerie void. Her keen eyes scanned the surroundings, and a furrow formed on her brow as she noticed the spirits behaving in a peculiar manner.

She felt a subtle discomfort, a whisper of disquiet in the air. The absence of the usual inhabitants, coupled with the strange behavior of the spirits, began to weave a sense of foreboding. The vibrant, luminescent moss that once adorned the stones now flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows that danced across the forest floor.

Sam exchanged glances with her fellow troop members, their expressions mirroring the growing unease. The once enchanting sanctuary now revealed a hidden layer of mystery, and Sam couldn't shake the feeling that they had stumbled into something far more profound and unsettling than they had initially anticipated. “But I feel stronger, my powers do anyway.”

“So do mine,” called an other Tidewalker in his troop walking alongside her.

“And Mine,” added Berretta, taking up the rear. Sam's words about the absence of monsters and animals hung in the air, only amplifying the sense of foreboding. The spirits, once described as playful fledglings, now appeared as elusive shadows flitting through the labyrinthine woods. Their movements seemed less innocent and more like elusive specters, contributing to the unease settling over the troop.

“This place feels as though it is surging with power,” stated Smith. “Like a power greater than the volume of this forest, being shoved into something small.”

“Agreed,” and that was all Nat added to the conversation, though unheard by all save for Erik. As they marched forward, Erik swore he had heard the clang of metal that resounds when soldiers march, but his troop was a lightly geared one designed for high mobility. Even their caravan was designed to only be moved by the grounders so they could leave no trace of their presence. However, he let the thought slip away, dismissing it as a trick of the senses in the mystical sanctuary.

As they continued, the ethereal illumination guided their path through the labyrinthine woods. As the troop went deeper into the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, the air grew heavy with an unnatural stillness. The towering trees, their branches intertwined like skeletal fingers, whispered in the wind, carrying an unsettling melody.

A clustering of densely packed trees rested within this labyrinth, the troop looked towards their leader and then proceeded to the center. The trees nestled together in such a way that it separated the outside labyrinth and what lay before them as they rounded the trees. A serene spring glistened in the heart of the sanctuary, its crystal-clear waters mirroring the ancient, towering trees that surrounded it. The air was filled with a gentle melody of rustling leaves and distant whispers, adding to the enchanted atmosphere of the sacred grove.

As Erik took his first steps into the heart of the sanctuary, uncertainty gnawed at him. What if this isn't where we needed to be? What if I've led them all into a trap? The weight of the unknown pressed on him with each advancing stride.

Glowing blue stones lined the edge of the spring. Beyond the sparkling spring, an astonishing sight awaited—a sigil of a dragon entwined with an anchor, perched atop something that seemed impossible, for nothing like it existed anywhere else. An ethereal presence, enigmatic and captivating, adorned a throne crafted from the same blue-glowing stone that bordered the spring's edge. Ominous shapes swirled into and out of focus among the gentle otherworldly glow. Seated upon the throne was a pale blue spirit. It seemed less welcoming and more like an ancient force, its presence sending shivers down their spines.

“That's not possible,” Nat remarked, his voice near Erik's ear. “How? There are no more.” Nat's remark about the impossibility of such a spirit only deepened the atmosphere of fear to Erik. The ethereal illumination, once a guiding beacon, now accentuated the strange and cryptic shapes lurking within the shadows. Glowing blue stones lined the spring, but their radiance took on an unsettling hue, casting an eerie reflection in the crystal-clear waters. Ominous shapes swirled in and out of focus, creating a disorienting effect that played tricks on the eyes.

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“Greetings Lieutenant Erik, and troop. Welcome to my home…….. this sanctuary,” a ghostly voice intwined with the wind and the leaves surrounding them seemed to echo through the sacred grove, its words carrying an unsettling weight. “From the rest of the world.”

“I take it you were expecting us?” asked Smith. “Or do you spend all day sitting in an ethereal throne waiting for someone to break in?” Erik shot him a glance that stared daggers into Smith. He mouthed “sorry” and retreated behind Beretta.

“Consider what you all were doing as a trial of sorts.” Answering his question but ignoring Smith’s blatant rudeness. The spirit moved from the throne and strode across the calm surface of the spring not creating a wake, nor ripples. The sense of normalcy shattered, replaced by an eerie calm. “The cure for the Madness comes partly from me, and partly from the creature itself.”

Beretta shot a look towards the Lieutenant as the spirit crossed the spring. She was the closest to it and nervousness spread throughout her body. As the pale blue spirit glided closer, Beretta felt an inexplicable chill creep down her spine. The air around her seemed to thicken, and a subtle unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Unbeknownst to her, an ethereal hand extended towards her, reaching from the spirit's otherworldly form. She couldn't see it, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as if an invisible presence hovered just beyond her perception.

A shiver ran down Beretta's arms, and she instinctively tightened her grip on the hilt of her undrawn weapon. Her eyes darted nervously between the approaching spirit and her surroundings. Something felt off, an unsettling energy that danced on the edges of her awareness. Yet, she couldn't quite put her finger on what troubled her.

Erik, observing from a distance, saw the spectral hand inching closer to Beretta. He could sense her growing discomfort, the subtle shift in her posture, and the wary glances she cast into the shadows. It was a silent struggle, a dance between the seen and the unseen, and Erik knew he had to tread carefully in this mysterious encounter. Especially after the comment by Smith.

“My apologies great spirit,” Erik tried to get its attention. “For we did not know this was your home, could we perchance have some time to retreat outside and properly reintroduce ourselves?”

The spirit stopped its advancement and turned towards Erik, saving Beretta for the time being. “Of course, you have not been rude. If I didn’t want you here, you would not have found the center.” It paused and seemed to tilt its head, “However, it may be shocking to see a spirit such as me. Very well you and your troop may collect yourselves, but I do wish to speak with you shortly.” Berretta’s nervousness mirrored the troop's collective anxiety, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. Lieutenant Erik's attempt at diplomacy felt feeble in the face of the spirit's enigmatic nature. The spirit's acceptance of their presence did little to dispel the underlying fear, as its voice took on a harsh tone when addressing Erik.

“Thank you, it was a shock, and I will be here within the quarter hour to present myself properly.” Erik bowed his head.

“No need to bow human, you have done no disservice.”

“You have my thanks again.” Erik motioned for his troop to retreat. As unnerved as he was, that sense of dread he felt before camping came flooding back. His mind raced and he glanced in the direction of Nat. Whatever was about to happen, he had to talk to Nat and get him to Abby. He would prepare his troop as best as he could.

As the troop retreated, the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, once a promise of beauty and mystery, now harbored an unsettling secret. The air, thick with unspoken apprehension, awaited the impending conversation that would unravel the true nature of their encounter with the ancient spirit. They sat outside of the center of the labyrinth; the pressure exuding from their brief encounter from the water spirit still lingered.

“Ok, anyone else think we’ve walked into a trap?” Jorge muttered. Several from the troop nodded their heads in agreement.

“No, it said to think of it as a trial, but all we did was cure animals infected with Madness.” Sam pondered out loud. “We were all in the Central Hall when High King Sevas gave us this mission. It was a legitimate mission.”

“No, you’re right,” Berretta stated trying to calm the others, “Lieutenant what’s the call here?”

All eyes fell upon Erik, whose back was turned to them looking back from whence they had come.

“Prepare for anything. Be alert, it may not be spirits we are only going to see before this day is done.” He looked down at his hands. The metallic sounds earlier were not an illusion brought on by the forest. He knew something was not right. Nat had grabbed a glowing stone from the springs edge before the troop left. During the retreat he had slipped it to the Lieutenant. Now the swirling blue stone lay harmless in his hand. He turned and held it to the others. “Does anyone recognize this?”

Smith held his hand out and took it from the Lieutenant. “Wait, isn’t this,” he reached into his pack and pulled out a similar stone and placed them side by side. The one from the spring was glowing a faintly pale blue, while the one Smith had produced was the same hue, and same glow. The only difference was the two black swirls that appeared and disappeared at random intervals. “A soulstone?”

“Yes, it is. It looks like we now know where they come from.” Sam looked between the two, “But it seems the one from the spring is unfinished there’s no swirls being produced.”

“Perhaps the true mission is to bring a shipment of these back with us? I mean, I didn’t know where they came from. The Kingdom has used them for fifty years now,” hoped Jorge.

“Let us hope that is the case,” Erik stated as he took off his armored coat, his undershirt still present. He went to his pack an pulled a cleaner dress shirt out and began to pull it on. “But don’t let your guard down. Be ready and alert for anything.”

“But Lieutenant your armor,” the Tidewalker from earlier started.

“Listen, in the center of this sanctuary, is the only water spirit in existence. I’m going in there, in its home. Where it’s the most powerful.” He looked to the Tidewalker and the rest of the troop. “No amount of armor will protect me from its power. Spirits are the ones who gave the Auctians and us our powers ‘cause we offered sacrifices and prayed to them in ancient times.” He took a breath. “This may be the last time I see you all. If I’m not back in an hour, flee and scatter, that’s an order.”

The troop saluted with a resounding “Ser!” Erik took the soulstones from Smith and took his first stride back to the center of the Wylde Wood Santcuary.

Erik stood at the threshold of the sanctuary, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like an insurmountable force. The ancient trees, their branches twisted into haunting shapes, seemed to mirror the contorted thoughts in his mind.

Am I making the right choice? Erik questioned himself, a flicker of doubt dancing in his eyes. His armor, usually a shield against physical threats, felt inadequate against the spiritual power that awaited him. Stripped of its protective layers, he was left vulnerable, exposed to the unknown.

He cast a glance back at his troop, their expectant eyes following his every move. The responsibility of their lives rested on his shoulders, and the burden was becoming unbearable.

Erik's hand tightened around the soulstones, their cool surface offering little comfort. Sacrifices and prayers to spirits, he mused, his thoughts a tempest of conflicting emotions. The memories of ancient rituals and whispered invocations echoed in his mind, a reminder of the power these spirits once held and had given.

His breath hitched, a visible sign of the internal turmoil. The rhythmic crunch of moss-covered stones beneath his boots marked the slow march toward his destiny. The anticipation of the encounter with the water spirit hung in the air, suffocating him.

Erik's gaze shifted to Nat, the silent companion who bore witness to his innermost thoughts. Is this the right path? he silently pleaded with Nat, whose unreadable expression provided little reassurance.

Nat stood at the entrance and looked at Erik expectantly.

“No Nat, you take my armor, letter, and these,” he handed the stones over to Nat. “Take them to Abby, protect her.”

Nat regarded Erik with a mix of understanding and concern as the swirling blue stone exchanged hands between them. "You know what the black swirls are in these, don't you?" he asked, his eyes betraying a shared knowledge that he already knew the answer.

"Soulbound users' souls," Erik responded, his gaze fixed on the mesmerizing patterns within the stone. The impending encounter with the water spirit weighed heavily on him, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"How did you figure it out?" Nat inquired, the gravity of their shared history evident in his tone.

"How could I not notice the ethereal hand reaching into Berretta?!" Erik's frustration and concern manifested in his words, a testament to the weight of leadership he carried.

Nat nodded knowingly. "It's because you can see me; you saw that."

"Did you know?" Erik raised an eyebrow, seeking reassurance in Nat's unwavering gaze.

"When you learned, I learned. I'm all-powerful, not all-knowing. Well, all-powerful within constraints," Nat shrugged, his mischievous exterior momentarily giving way to solemnity.

As Erik prepared to step into the enveloping darkness, Nat's parting words resonated in the air. "We were sent here to make more of those stones. But what I don't get is why."

"Well, you may find out. Talk respectfully, and" Nat looked into the impenetrable shadows, solemnity still present in his voice, "the other narrator."

Erik's mind raced back to the narrator seated by the spring; feet immersed in its ethereal waters. No one else could see the narrator but Erik had recognized him. "He's General Thane's. I met him a while ago, never interacted with him though."

"That is who he is assigned to. It’s good that you haven’t, he probably doesn’t know you can see him," Nat agreed, his eyes scanning the shadows for unseen presences. "Which means the General is lurking here somewhere. Hence why you told them to be ready for anything."

"Yeah," Erik took a deep breath, the burden of leadership and the unknown converging on his shoulders. "The other one didn't notice you?"

"Nope, I didn't want him to know I was there. Or does Leader of the Narrators mean nothing to you? I am invisible, inaudible, and intangible to all except my focal point. And you, Erik, are my current focal point. You can see other narrators because I want you to see all truths."

Erik released the breath he was holding and visibly relaxed. "Good. Well, I'll be seeing you," and with those words he left Nat to find his sister. Nat, with a silent prayer for Erik's safety, watched him stride purposefully into the abyss.