The days dragged on in the deep, dim woods of Verdantis, each search yielding nothing but shadows and whispered suspicions. They moved in careful formation, scanning every twisted tree root and hidden hollow for signs of the lost village, yet all traces seemed to have been expertly erased, leaving the forest hauntingly still. Frustration grew with each passing day. Aric found himself casting glances over his shoulder, half expecting to see the answers materialize out of thin air, but the forest seemed to swallow any leads as quickly as they found them.
Sylvas led the group with relentless determination, his gaze sharp as he navigated through the woods. His silence was telling, each furrow of his brow a testament to his rising unease. Lyra’s usual calm was strained; her gaze, usually bright with confidence, seemed dimmer as they pressed further into the wild terrain. By the third day, weariness hung over them all, and it became clear that their search was dwindling to nothing.
When they finally decided to head to the capital, Eldergrove, Aric’s frustration echoed in the tense silence between them. The city itself was nestled deep in Verdantis’s heart, where colossal trees rose like natural fortresses around the ancient elven capital. Their trunks twisted and coiled toward the sky, branches weaving together in an almost sentient embrace that made Eldergrove feel more like a living, breathing being than a city.
As they crossed into Eldergrove’s outer bounds, Sylvas led the way through winding paths, his tension visibly easing as they left the dense forest behind. But the relief was brief—both he and Aric wore identical expressions of frustration as they passed beneath the sprawling arches of the city’s natural barriers. The trees towered so high they nearly blocked out the sky, their ancient trunks woven together to form walls that kept intruders out and the city safe.
The Valenwood estate, Veilwood Keep, stood at the center of Eldergrove, its structure a breathtaking blend of stone and tree, crafted with a reverence that seemed to speak to the very soul of Verdantis. Vines wove through the stonework, blossoms blooming in delicate hues as they climbed the walls, while the wood itself seemed to breathe, stretching and curving around the estate as if alive. Intricate carvings adorned every visible surface, each telling tales of the Valenwoods’ lineage—ancestors who had guarded these lands for generations.
As they approached the estate, Lyra grew quiet, her worry evident as her gaze swept over the estate’s darkened windows and shadowed halls. The exhaustion of their days in the wilderness was catching up, and Veilwood Keep felt both foreboding and like a haven after the constant tension of the search.
Inside the vast, dimly lit halls of Veilwood Keep, the wearied travelers found a brief respite. Aric had been assigned a guest room, and though the intricate lattice of leaves and vines carved into the walls was beautiful, it felt oddly confining. The stone ceiling arched above him in organic curves, mirroring the ancient trees outside, yet as he lay on the bed, the weight of the room and everything it represented pressed down on him.
He closed his eyes but found no rest, only a dull thrum of unease. His thoughts circled back to the voice’s ominous words, the warning echoing in his mind. The gods have started to interfere. His fists clenched as he turned those words over, dissecting them, searching for an answer that eluded him. How had things spiraled to this point without him noticing? What forces had been at play beneath the surface of their search, steering them into a dead-end of vanished villages and unanswered questions?
"Everything feels like it's slipping just beyond my reach," he thought, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. He'd witnessed strange magics before—seen the way mana and the Wyrd could distort reality—but this was different, darker, and more complete. Even in his brief time immersed in this new world, he understood that erasing a village of souls wasn’t a feat easily accomplished, not without powers that were forbidden for good reason.
The silent weight of the voice’s warning had settled over him like a shroud, but he couldn’t tell whether it was a threat or a challenge. Either way, it felt personal.
After some time, he left his quarters and wandered through the silent corridors of Veilwood Keep. The estate had an ancient quality to it, every shadow heavy with secrets. He found himself on a balcony overlooking Eldergrove, the city’s canopy a dark sea beneath him. The sight was stunning, yet there was an ache to it, a reminder that this beautiful realm had somehow been twisted by something beyond his understanding.
A light step sounded behind him, and he didn’t turn; he already knew it was Lyra. She joined him, leaning against the cold stone railing. Her face was illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the trees, her gaze somber as she stared into the distance.
“How could an entire elven village vanish without a trace?” she murmured, half to herself. “We’ve all heard of dark magic, forbidden arts… but this?” Her words trailed off as if she couldn’t find the words.
Aric’s face remained impassive, his eyes flickering with a trace of something unreadable. “Perhaps their magic has roots deeper than we understand,” he replied, each word weighted and calm. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “But we’ll get answers. And I suspect they’re closer than they appear.”
Lyra’s expression softened, though a glint of concern lingered. She studied him for a moment, as though sensing a shift in him, a coolness that was both familiar and strange.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
After their conversation, Aric retired to his room, though sleep evaded him. The voice stirred again as the moon reached its zenith, whispering in its familiar, sinister tone, “The time is near. Follow me if you wish to unravel their secrets.” The suggestion lingered, like an unsettling promise of discovery.
'I guess I have no other choice.'
...
The dawn came with a heavy silence, pressing upon the forest and the twisted vines that surrounded Veilwood Keep like grasping fingers. Aric stood alone, looking back once at the estate. This was a choice he hadn’t wanted to make—to leave the shelter of his companions, to put trust in the voice that was as unsettling as it was elusive. Yet he knew, somewhere deep within, that this was the only way forward. The mysteries surrounding Verdantis’ vanishing village, the absence of any trace, and the silent warning from the voice all pointed to one thing: he’d find no answers staying behind.
He murmured quietly to himself, his words barely audible in the still morning air, “Does this also have to do with the prophecy?”
With one last steadying breath, he turned away, setting off into the wild depths of Verdantis, where shadows stretched across his path, thick and unmoving. Days passed in an uneasy blur. The woods here were dense and tangled, the trees taller and older than he’d ever seen, their bark marked with ancient sigils that seemed to pulse when he drew near. There was a strange weight to them, as if these woods had witnessed ages far beyond his understanding. He moved cautiously, his gaze flicking constantly between the towering trees, every nerve on high alert.
The voice had fallen silent, and he was left to his own devices, his only guidance the strange pull within him, an instinct he couldn’t fully explain. Aric spoke to himself more often than he intended, as if the silence pressing around him needed breaking.
“Of course, it left the details out,” he muttered, pushing aside a thick branch that snagged at his cloak. “Just wander for days, right? Just follow some… feeling.”
By the second night, he was beginning to question himself, the weight of isolation settling over him like a shroud. As he made camp by a narrow stream, he felt a creeping frustration—one he forced himself to bury. Every now and then, his mind flicked back to Veilwood Keep, the brief conversation with Lyra, her haunted gaze fixed on the stars above.
As he rested on a patch of moss, the voice returned, slipping into his mind like an echo of the darkness around him. “Here,” it murmured, barely more than a breath.
Aric tensed, his senses sharpening in an instant. There it was—a faint, elusive ripple of Wyrd energy, pulsing weakly from a point up ahead. He could barely sense it, like the whisper of a breeze through thick fog, but it was unmistakable. The wild, chaotic energy was unsettling, yet it drew him forward with a promise of answers. Rising to his feet, he reached instinctively for the mana within him, casting a thin veil around himself, a distortion that warped the air just enough to make him near-invisible to any prying eyes. He was getting better at this trick, and while he couldn’t maintain it forever, it would last long enough for what he needed.
He exhaled, steeling himself as he moved forward through the trees. “Just trust it,” he murmured to himself, his voice laced with a mix of doubt and determination. “If the gods have a plan, then let’s see it through.”
The cave was hidden, its mouth obscured by dense foliage and stone, as if it had been purposefully buried in the hillside. He slipped into its shadows, the faint ripple of Wyrd energy strengthening with each step. Aric felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he descended further, his boots crunching softly on the gravelly floor. The walls were cold, damp, covered in an odd moss that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. It reminded him of old tales he’d heard in his youth, stories of hidden places where magic seeped through the cracks of the world like blood from a wound.
After what felt like twenty minutes of navigating the narrowing tunnels, he sensed a shift. The faint energy intensified, pulling him toward a darkened alcove. Here, the air was thick with mana, tinged with the unmistakable trace of spatial distortion. It was a trap for anyone else, but Aric was familiar with the subtle ebb and flow of spatial magic. Focusing intently, he attuned himself to the distortion’s frequency, feeling for the invisible barrier hidden within the cave.
With a deep breath, he reached out, matching the rhythm of the distortion. The air before him shimmered, a faint outline appearing like an oil slick on water, revealing a portal hidden in plain sight. As he stepped through, he felt the space shift around him, folding inwards as he entered an unseen world beyond.
He emerged onto a ledge overlooking a cavernous chamber below, his heart pounding as his eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light. It was a sight he wouldn’t soon forget.
At the center of the cave lay a massive stone altar, upon which lay twenty or more elves, bound and unmoving, their faces pale, their breaths shallow. Above the stone altar, a massive steel bell hung suspended by heavy, dark chains. Its surface was engraved with the same ominous symbol—an eyeless, withered tree crowned by a singular eye staring forward, lifeless yet all-seeing. The metal gleamed in the dim torchlight, casting an eerie glow across the cave walls, as if the eye were watching all who dared enter.
An image hosted on Google Drive. [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/d/1FkceUz8ekNr-XRibv6X-BKgS-Iz7fM5z]
Around the alter, forty cultists in dark robes chanted in a strange language that buzzed at the edge of comprehension, words twisted and raw. At the head of this grim gathering stood three figures in robes different from the others.
This is it, he thought, his mind steeling itself, his breath steady. This is what they were hiding. The fear and doubt that had plagued him vanished, replaced by an icy calm.
“Let’s see what interference looks like,” he whispered, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice as he observed the cultists, planning his next move. This was the moment he’d been led here for—the gods had sent him into the dark, and he intended to tear it wide open.
"Stop. Don't do anything foolish, you can't take them on by yourself."
In the silence of his mind, the voice spoke once more, low and urgent. “Now, you see their devotion to ruin… but do you understand the cost they’re willing to pay?”
Aric’s gaze hardened, his resolve as cold as the shadows surrounding him.
...