"Kian, wait," Relar called out, a note of urgency in his voice. "There's something not right. Guardians—you said it yourself."

But Kian, driven by the thrill of their discovery, had already stepped forward. Before he could go far, the ground suddenly trembled beneath them as roots creaked and moved. In the shadow-draped clearing, one of the biggest roots split open with a crack. Heaps of debris seemed to lay within, amalgamations of the garden's lush life and the remnants of forgotten statuary.

Then they tore themselves from the roots, leaving behind bits and pieces and easing off strands that had been growing on and through them. As if deciding in the moment what was tree and what was part of the creature, a being emerged, separating from its resting place. Vines, thick and gnarled, served as sinew, binding together pieces of shattered sculptures and fragments of architectural structure into a semblance of humanoid shape. Squat and wide. The vines, weaving through eye sockets and around stone limbs, giving motion to the otherwise inert material.

It was a collage: half a torso comprised of chipped armor plates next to a side of a female robed body, limbs fashioned from the curved elegance of column fragments, and hands that were a jumbled mess of broken fingers and forearms. The plant life that ensnared these stone pieces was not the green of healthy growth or Kian's vines; instead, untouched by sunlight, it was largely white, sharing looks with bones and the statues themselves.

Its face was perhaps the most unsettling aspect. Composed of fragments of different statues, they wore a mosaic of shifting expressions. One might have the eyes of a weeping woman, the nose of a snarling beast, and the mouth of a laughing child. Large thorns across its head added to the imposing appearance.

Despite its heavy form, it moved fast, almost flowing out of its den and toward them. Grinding sounds, stone on stone, and the creak of wood and plant life accompanied the approach. It emanated no emotions, but an inevitability of natural force.

The battle was immediate and brutal. Kian, caught off guard, found himself ensnared by the creatures' extending vine-like appendages, his body wrenched and twisted. A cry of pain escaped his lips as thorns dug into his flesh, blood dripping onto the ancient stone. Kian, barely managed to summon his vines in defense. Vine against vine, Kian was quickly loosing the battle as the creature simple moved around them, brushing them off with ease. A thud echoed as Kian hit the ground, trying to build up a barrier of vines now instead of ensnaring the creature.

Relar had staggered back from the attack, weaponless and desperate, watched in horror. His heart pounded against his chest, a frenzied beat in the silence that followed Kian's fall. Barely a moment had passed. Some of the creatures facial parts moved to regard Relar, but it didn't come for him. Yet.

It was once more Fletch, Relar's Spirit Crane, that pushed at his awareness and brought Relar back to action. Through Fletch’s vision, Relar saw the aether flow, the streams of magic that fed the creature. He noticed several vines, glowing with a slight light, snaking their way from the central statue and tree into the creature’s form, empowering it.

With no other options, Relar darted towards the scattered debris on the garden floor, his fingers wrapping around a sharp piece of broken statue. Adrenaline surged through him as he made his decision. He couldn't fight the creature head-on, but perhaps he could sever its source of power.

The guardian finally reached for Relar, but with the earlier practice in evading Kians vines and Fletch's help, Relar was quicker, staying out of range of the appendages. It was still focused on Kian, bringing down stone studded fists on his body.

Relar dove towards a glowing vine. His makeshift blade cutting through them. He got two more before the creature seemed to realize what was happening and disengaged from Kian. Now with every vine he cut, the creature grew more erratic, its attacks more wild. But also each severed vine weakened the creature, its movements slowing, its once fluid motion becoming staggered. In a final desperate assault, it struck at Relar, who barely managed to evade, feeling the rush of air as a massive stone limb grazed his face.

The stone blade bit deep, and with a final push, another thick glowing vine parted. The creature collapsed next to Relar. Stone sliding apart, crashing against the floor, covering Relar with dust and dirt.

When Relar braved to rise again, Kian lay still, a silent figure on the forest floor, and Relar felt more fear than he ever had. He stood alone in the clearing, panting, his body aching from the exertion and the fear. His face hurt where the creature had struck him, and his skin and clothes were torn in places where he had scraped against stone, bark or thorns. Kian was still, and Relar wasn't sure if he was still breathing. The page momentarily forgotten, Relar rushed to his friend, as the feeling of Aether Points entered his body and a message slid across his vision.

You have defeated the Mage's Garden's Guardian (Nature Spirit Construct). You have received 50 Ascension Points (AP) for your contribution.

Stumbling forward, he mentally pushed the message away and knelt next to his friend.

"Kian," Relar whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He gently shook Kian's shoulder, trying to rouse him. "Come on, Kian, wake up. Please."

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His hands trembled. He feared the worst—that Kian's stillness was a sign of life extinguished. Relar's breath hitched, and he forced himself to focus, to look for the rise and fall of Kian's chest, any sign that his friend was still with him. But Kian remained unresponsive, his body had been bludgeoned and marred by the thorn-inflicted wounds. Relar in his desperation didn't want to admit the clear signs before him as blood spread beneath him, only limited by the ground soaking it up.

Relar couldn't help but look away. His gaze swept upward but couldn't find purchase in a scene so serene with clear skies and the trees gently swaying. He scanned the clearing, the eerie garden was now a battlefield to him. He felt utterly alone. Until Fletch alighted next to him.

Relar reached out through their bond, finding solace in the crane's presence. He grit his teeth. "Fletch, look around. Make sure we're safe," he instructed. The crane spread his wings and flying through Relar's heaving torso took off. A gesture Rez understood to mean he wasn't alone after all.

There was no time to loose. But he couldn't leave the page. He might never get the chance again. As Fletch circled above, its ethereal form casting no shadow upon the ancient stone and foliage, Relar stumbled towards the base of the imposing statue, now further dismantled by their recent battle. He felt like in a dream. It couldn't be real. But there, above the debris and overgrowth, hidden in the tree, a singular piece of parchment lay undisturbed.

He felt the guilt welling up. He knew this wasn't his alone to take. Maybe Kian could recover if he just brought him back fast enough. Maybe the page would give him healing. Thoughts flitted through his mind, encouragement, excuses, need and greed. His hands, still trembling from the fight and fear for Kian, didn't hesitate. He reached into the hollow in the tree. Up and up he had to push his hand. And he still couldn't reach it. He knew it was there, but this might be why nobody else had ever found it. He grabbed the same piece of sharp stone that he had used earlier to sever the vines and began chipping away pieces of the tree. It took him only a few hits to widen another hole in the bark higher up. He squeezed his hand in again.

As Relar's fingers brushed against the parchment, he felt a rush of aether, not just from the page, but it seemed to be drawn from all around, through the page and into him.

The imposing tree, a sentinel that had stood guard for a long time had its watch ended. Leaves fluttered to the ground in a sudden cascade, and the branches, many heavy with the burden of stone fragments, wilted before Relar's eyes. It was as though the tree relinquished its charge with a final sigh.

While Relar had withdrawn his hand and taken a few paces back from the decaying tree, his spellbook had risen before him, open to a blank page. Above it hovering the text and information for his third page. "Spirit Beast Construct," and it radiated with a strong white glow, casting light upon the mangled scene around it. Relar's heart raced, with a mix of urgency and marvel. The text and diagrams stirred to life, not with the gentle animation he had witnessed before, but with a mechanical fervor. Creatures of spirit and aether leaped from the parchment, their forms made of bits and pieces, swirling around Relar in a silent maelstrom of potential, each illustration a testament to the power at his fingertips.

He willed the process to go faster. Now that he had the page, he was acutely aware that his friend lay there. The tree, now bare and withered, its essence spent, stood as the last witness and evidence of power lost.

The script finally melded into his spellbook with an intensity that shocked him. The book absorbed it with a blinding light, its glow spreading before settling into a new, permanent residence.

The clearing fell still once more, save for the soft rustling of withered leaves. Relar, the page now a part of his arsenal, hurried to Kian. His thoughts were solely on the next task, to bring Kian back.

Fletch descended, swooping to fly before him, always in sight, a beacon of support in the solitude of the garden.

With effort, Relar lifted Kian onto his shoulder, ignoring the protests of his own body, the cuts, and bruises he'd collected. Step by heavy step, he began the trek back to the academy, to safety, to healers. Fletch flew ahead, a guide in the soft afternoon light that belied Relars sordid charge.

The trek through the forest back to the academy was nothing short of harrowing for Relar. Each step with Kian's unconscious form a constant reminder of the failure. The sun's rays filtered through the canopy, offering light but no solace, the forest seemingly endless. Fletch, always in sight, flitted between trees, guiding Relar along the most direct path. Yet, the distance seemed to stretch further with each step, the underbrush more entangled, and the silence of the forest more oppressive.

Despite the urgency that propelled him, Relar's pace was inevitably slow, hampered by the terrain and the weight of his burden. His muscles screamed with the effort of a long day, sweat mingled with blood staining his clothes, the drab colors now darkened to a grim hue only disrupted by bright red fading to pink. He didn't stop. The forest, with its ancient trees and hidden secrets, bore silent witness to their plight. Relar's mind fell into a stupor, he had dispelled all other thoughts, only focusing on the next steps and Fletch's silent form in front.

It was the shouts of others that made Relar realize he had stepped out of the forest and was in range of the others again. His legs gave out.

Lorena and Mai, who had been waiting, were the first to see them. Their expressions morphed from anticipation to shock as they took in the blood-soaked scene. Mai rushed forward, while Lorena, her voice full of fear, called for Master Gumnik.

Before Mai even reached them, Master Gumnik was at Relars side. His voice, steady and commanding, ordered immediate action, calling for them to rush for Headmaster Hessmin with a gravity that underscored the severity of the situation. At some point Master Gumnik must have taken Kian from him, as he found himself besides the scene now. Kian at the center of everyone's attention. Relar could only watch as the Master first performed spells, but quickly started to bow his head in anguish. So did many of the bystanders. It looked like most of their group under Gumnik had returned by now. And they were all standing guard. Expressions between horror and sadness written on their faces.

Relar wanted to shout why they were all just standing there, why even Master Gumnik wasn't doing anything to save Kian, when his gaze fell upon Kian once more. The first time since maybe hours, a different angle. He saw the caved in skull, the lifeless skin. He looked down at himself, robes that were more so soaked with blood that they were becoming stiff in the short time he had been sitting. Suddenly stricken by fear and disgust he threw off his shirt and started sobbing uncontrollable.