> "The trees grow larger. The creatures more dangerous. The forest doesn’t just grow—it deepens."

The wooden creak and clacking of horse hoofs filled the journey after Eddie, Torrie, Markus and Catherine boarded the carriage that agreed to take them to Gunther’s Farm, that is the northernmost point the carriage is willing to take them.

Scents of hay and the faint earthy breeze drifting through the open sides of the carriage. Eddie sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the passing fields, The rifle sat leaning on his shoulder. Catherine, ever the scholar, kept stealing glances at the weapon. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her.

Catherine then reaches her hand to touch one of the engravings.

But as usual, Eddie swatter her hands away.

“Come on, Edward.” Catherine sighed, “Can’t I get just a little touch of it?”

“No, Catherine.” Eddie reminded, “Dad said so.”

“Humph,” Catherine said in mock pout, “Have it your way then.”

Markus and Torrie laughed at the exchange, but Catherine is far from over, she continued,

"But I've been meaning to ask about that flintlock of yours. It's not exactly what you see every day, especially for someone helping out at the apothecary."

"It's more of a hand-me-down, I guess," he sighed, "Back when Weshaven was still full of Streamwyrms, Dad taught my brother Alfred how to use it. Alfred would go into the shore with the others and scare off anything too close to the Apothecary. Sometimes, he'd even shoot them if they were too bold."

“Streamwyrms? What’s that?” Torrie asked,

“It’s those fishes coming out of the shores every August, remember? Sharp teeth, four legs, you were almost bitten by one last summer.”

“Oh those!” Torrie said, “But they are so cute, why did Alfred shoot them?”

"No they aren’t cute, Torrie, they’re pest!” Eddie hissed.

Catherine tilted her head, her gaze flicking back to the rifle. "And now? I assume there aren't any Streamwyrms around anymore."

"Not really," Eddie replied. "They still comes out of the shores every August, since Alfred’s not around, I takes his place, but honestly Markus was much more better shot than me, so I haven't had to use this thing in ages. Honestly, it's just been collecting dust."

"So why bring it now?" Catherine pressed, a note of curiosity creeping into her tone.

“Eh,” Eddie shrugged. "Because it's cool."

“You just said that Robert asked you to take it.” Catherine said

“But it’s still cool nonetheless.”

“Since it’s oh so cool,” Catherine said theatrically, “You would let me touch them.”

“No!”

-o-

The carriage came to a slow, creaking halt in front of a farmstead, a modest property framed by sprawling fields and a weathered wooden fence. The farmhouse stood stoically against the horizon, its roof patched in places and its walls bearing the marks of years spent braving the elements. A few chickens scattered at the sound of the wheels stopping, clucking indignantly as the group prepared to step down.

The driver gave the reins a gentle flick. “Here we are. Gunther’s Farm. Northernmost point, just like I said.”

Eddie was the first to hop off, his boots crunching against the dirt path as he turned to help Torrie down. She leaped with an exaggerated flourish, as if pretending she were dismounting a noble steed. Markus followed, stretching his arms and squinting at the farm with mild curiosity. Catherine climbed down last, brushing her red coat off with an air of elegance—until the driver called out.

“Right, miss. That’ll be two silver for the lot of you.”

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Catherine froze, her hand lingering in her pocket as she turned to the driver with an awkward smile. “Ah… I think…”

The driver looked more unamused.

“I… seem to have misplaced my coin satchel…” Catherine said, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. She glanced back at the group. “Eddie,” she said, flashing an overly sweet smile. “Be a dear and lend me a bit, would you?”

Eddie looked at Catherine, seemingly taken aback by her uncharastically sweet and regal tone.

“What.” Eddie said

“I misplaced my coin purse.”

“You spent all your coins didn’t you—“

“I said I misplaced it. Happens to the best of us, you know.”

"Fine," Eddie sighed, and reluctantly dug into his pouch, fishing out two silver coins and handing them to the driver, who nodded in thanks and clicked his tongue to set the horses moving again.

As the carriage rolled away, Eddie turned to Catherine.

“You’re a master alchemist, and you don’t have two silver to your name?”

“Exactly,” Catherine said, “Also I’m not just a Master Alchemist, Edward. I’m a Travelling Master Alchemist, and that is why I accepted that gig!.”

“I sometimes wonder how my younger self could even like you.“

-o-

Eddie, Torrie, Markus and Catherine continued their journey northward. Sea of tall green grass sways rhythmically as a gentle breeze carried the scent of sea from the shore. Their shadows stretched long and lean under the waning sunlight. The land ahead gradually sloped upward, and as they crested a small hill, the forest of Deep Glaive came into view.

At first glance, it seemed like just a newly planted tree farm. A scattered cluster of saplings, small bushes, and a few modestly sized trees lined the edge.

Markus stopped and glanced around his surroundings.

"This is it, ma’am?" he asked, glancing at Catherine. "The infamous Deep Glaive… Doesn’t seem so deep to me. Looks more like a glorified garden."

"That’s because you’re standing on the shallow end," Catherine replied.

"Shallow end? What’s that supposed to mean?" Markus asked back

"The Deep Glaive isn’t an ordinary forest.” Catherine said, turning toward him, gesturing to the trees ahead.

“It’s Illusory in nature, in a way. It mimics the ocean. The closer you stay to the edges, the smaller everything seems. But as you go deeper..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the horizon.

“What… happens as we go deeper?" Markus frowned.

"The trees grow larger. The creatures more dangerous. The forest doesn’t just grow—it deepened," Catherine explained, her tone steady but laced with a hint of caution. "It’s why they call it the Deep Glaive. You won’t understand the depth of it until you’re in the deep end."

"Great…” Markus sighed, “That’s... comforting to hear."

“Don’t worry, Markus.” Eddie said, patting his friend on the back, “I’m sure we’ll figure things out.”

“If things go bad…” Eddie continued, “We have a certain Elf to sue.”

“Not funny, Edward.” Catherine said.

The group pressed onward, stepping into the forest’s threshold. As they ventured deeper into the forest, the world around them grew quieter. Their footsteps and the distant calls of seabirds were the sounds they could hear. The path they had been following gave way to a darker earth. The green swaying grasses disappear beneath layers of dark earth. The group began approaching the middle of the Deep Glaive. The sun was now just a sliver on the horizon, casting the last rays of daylight through the trees. As they drew nearer, the forest ahead seemed almost unremarkable—a large cluster of trees, their branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. But as they crossed the threshold into the forest, the air seemed to shift.

It became cooler, denser, and more damp. The small, trees and saplings they saw before had passed, now the trees are taller, bigger and thicker. Their trunks twists, and their canopies stretched higher into the sky that began to get covered more and more. The underbrush, once sparse, now teemed with strange, luminescent flora, casting an otherworldly glow on the path ahead.

Eddie glanced at Markus, who was inspecting one of the emissive flowers clinging to a nearby trunk.

"Do you feel something?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah…" Markus replied. "The air is denser here… it’s like swimming."

“That’s one weird way to put it…” Eddie said, “But I agree with you.”

Torrie trailed behind them. She looked up, craning her neck to take in the towering trees.

The barks of the trees spiraled skyward, their leaves forming an interwoven canopy so thick it blocked out the remnants of the sun light. Shadows danced across her freckled face, and her voice piped up, soft but curious.

"Is it night already?" Torrie asked, looking around.

"Not quite," Catherine said, who is in the front most of the group. Her apple-red hair shimmered faintly, catching the luminescence of the forest flora.

"The deeper we go, the larger the forest grows, remember?” Catherine continued, “The Deep Glaive is not just a place, but a world within itself. Like the ocean, it swells with depth. The trees grow taller because we’re swimming deeper."

"So…” Torrie said as she looked around her, “Is it like we’re walking into... another layer of reality?"

"You can say it like that," Catherine said, stepping forward again. "The Deep Glaive is an ancient place, shaped by elven spells older than any of us. Even myself. It doesn’t follow the rules of the outside world."

“Older than you, huh?” Eddie interjected, “This thing must be pre-historic.”

Markus chuckled softly as he joined Catherine, tapping the flask on his belt. "And yet, here we are, bringing mundane supplies into a place like this. It’s humbling, isn’t it?"

As they ventured further, the luminescent plants grew brighter, painting the towering trees in hues of blue and green. The hum grew louder, joined by faint rustlings in the dense underbrush. Shadows flickered at the edges of their vision, always just appearing in his peripheral.

"Are we in the center of the forest yet?" Torrie broke the silence.

"Not quite," Catherine said, gesturing toward the dense wall of trees ahead. "But we will be at The Gates in a few moment."

"The Gates?" Torrie echoed.

"The Gates to the forest’s center.” Catherine explained, “If you know where to look—and what to do—you can open them. And lucky for you… I just knew where to look and what to do."

"That is great Catherine but...” Eddie said as he adjusted the strap of his satchel and the rifle on his back, “How exactly do we ‘open’ them?"

"Follow me," Catherine said, Leading the way forward.