The mist grew thicker as we walked deeper into the plains, wrapping around us like a shroud. It muffled sound, turned shapes into shadows, and made the world feel smaller, more confined. Every step seemed to echo, though the ground beneath us was soft and damp.
"The shard's hum is growing louder," Rykard whispered, his voice low. He kept his hand on the hilt of his blade, eyes scanning the haze. "Are we walking towards it or away from it?"
I pulled the shard out of my pack, its faint glow pulsing rhythmically. The hum it emitted was almost soothing, like the steady beat of a drum. Almost.
"It's pulling us somewhere," I said.
"Into a trap," Lira muttered, her voice grim. She shifted her grip on her sword, her eyes sharp and watchful. "The Wraithwood's power may have been unbound, but it hasn't lost its cunning. This mist isn't natural."
She was right. The air felt charged, heavy with something I couldn't name. It wasn't just the mist obscuring our vision—it was a presence, unseen but undeniably there, brushing against the edges of my awareness.
"Keep moving," Lira ordered. "Stay close."
The soldiers obeyed, their unease palpable. Each of us could feel it now: the unseen watcher, the weight of a thousand eyes that weren't there but should have been.
We came to a hollow in the plains, where the mist seemed to gather and swirl like water in a basin. At its center stood a monolithic stone, ancient and worn, covered in runes that glowed faintly in the shard's light.
"What is that?" Rykard asked, stepping closer.
"A marker," Lira said, her voice quiet. "Or a warning."
The shard pulsed more brightly, the hum deepening into a low vibration that made the ground tremble beneath our feet.
"I think it wants us to activate it," I said, though I wasn't sure how I knew.
Lira shot me a sharp look. "You think, or you know? Because if this is a trap—"
"It's not the Wraithwood's doing," I interrupted. "The shard wouldn't react like this if it were."
"Or it's being manipulated," she said, her face set. But after a moment, she sighed and nodded. "Fine. Do it. But be ready for anything."
I took a step toward the monolith, the shard's glow increasing with every step. As I raised it toward the runes, a sudden gust of wind blew through the hollow, dispersing the mist and revealing a circle of smaller stones surrounding the monolith.
As soon as the shard made contact with the runes, light flared out from the monolith in delicate patterns. The hum was a chorus, voices weaving together into a language I could not decipher.
The mist shuddered and retreated, and that presence that had felt like an entity was gone. Its place was taken by a vision—a glimpse of a landscape unlike any I'd ever seen.
A black forest, sprawling across the horizon with trees twisted and dead, ran along rivers of dark liquid that curled through the earth with surfaces that reflected sickly green glow. And right at the heart of all of this lay a massive structure - a fortress carved from obsidian, with spires piercing into the sky heavy with storm clouds.
"The Heart of the Wraithwood," Lira breathed in awe, her eyes wide with wonder.
As the vision faded, the light of the monolith began to dim, and the shard's glow returned to its previous faint pulse. The mist crept back in, but the oppressive presence was gone.
"What did we just see?" Rykard asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Our next destination," I said, though the words felt heavy on my tongue.
Lira looked at the soldiers, her face grim. "You saw it too. That fortress is where the power of the Wraithwood is coming from now. If we are going to stop this, that's where we need to go."
Among the troops, there was murmuring uncertainty, but no one spoke their doubts.
"The Heart of the Wraithwood," I repeated, the image of the fortress seared into my mind. "How do we even get there?"
"The shard will guide us," Lira said, though her tone held more determination than certainty. "It led us here, and it will lead us there."
Rykard frowned. "And if it's leading us to our deaths?"
Lira's eyes were stern. "Then we die trying. Because the alternative is to let that thing consume the world."
Her words hung in the air, a challenge none of us could ignore.
We moved out of the hollow and the shard's glow steadied, its pulse guiding us like a distant beacon. The mist began to thin out, revealing a narrow path through the plains.
But the feeling of being watched came back stronger now, and I couldn't feel but that the Wraithwood itself was aware of our movements.
The path before us was treacherous. The stakes were higher than ever. And as we moved towards the Heart of the Wraithwood, I could not help but wonder if we were walking into the forest's final trap-or its undoing.