Music recommendation : "Way Down We Go" by Kaleo
The Veilwood Expanse was never truly silent. It was a place where the trees whispered of old curses and forgotten evils, where the ground seemed to pulse with an ancient, malevolent heartbeat. But tonight, it was different. The usual rustle of leaves and the low hum of the wind were swallowed by an oppressive stillness, as though the very air was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Five scouts walked deeper into the forest stealthily, careful not to alert whatever creatures lives there.
Valen, the lead fae scout, felt a shiver run down his spine as he and his small team neared the forest's edge. He had been tasked by the king himself to investigate the strange disturbances reported over the past few days—unnatural mists, eerie silences, and whispers of dark magic. Valen had seen much in his long life, but the weight of foreboding that pressed down on him now was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
"We should turn back," whispered Lyra, his second-in-command, as her gaze swept the foreboding tree line ahead. The normally confident warrior's voice was laced with unease. Her hand never left the hilt of her blade, her sharp fae eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
Valen shook his head. "We were ordered to investigate, and we will. But keep your guard up. This place reeks of danger." His voice was firm, but even he could not fully mask his own apprehension.
The other scouts exchanged uneasy glances but followed their leader without protest. They were fae warriors, after all, known for their bravery and skill, but the Veilwood was a different kind of danger. It wasn't something they could fight with swords or magic; it was older, darker—a malevolence that had existed long before any of them had been born.
The closer they got, the more the air seemed to change, growing thick and heavy. A low mist began to curl around their feet, rising from the forest floor like the breath of some sleeping beast. The trees, twisted and gnarled, stretched out their branches like skeletal hands, their bark blackened and slick with some kind of oozing substance.
Valen motioned for the group to stop. He could feel eyes on him, though he saw no one. His instincts, honed from years of battle and survival, screamed at him to turn back, to flee, but he held his ground. He would not return to the king without answers.
"Do you feel that?" Lyra murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Valen nodded. "Dark magic," he replied, his voice grim. "It's thick here. Stay sharp."
As they ventured deeper into the Veilwood, the mist grew denser, clinging to their clothes and skin like a living thing. The stench of rot hung in the air, growing stronger with every step they took. It wasn't long before they came upon an old sacrificial circle, half-buried beneath layers of overgrown vines and twisted roots. The ground within the circle pulsed with a faint red glow, as if some long-forgotten power still lingered there, waiting to be awakened.
Lyra stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the circle. "This isn't fae magic," she said softly. "It's something else… something much older."
Valen's heart pounded in his chest as he extended his own magic, feeling the dark energy that saturated the ground. It was cold, hateful, and filled with malice. "Don't touch anything," he warned. But Kael, one of the younger scouts, curious and reckless, ignored the order. He reached out with his own magic, attempting to probe the tree at the center of the circle.
The moment Kael's magic made contact, the ground trembled beneath their feet. The black ooze at the base of the tree began to writhe and slither toward him, moving like a living creature. Valen acted quickly, yanking Kael back, but it was too late. The shadows surrounding the circle began to shift and move, swirling like smoke, closing in on them.
And then a voice, low and cold, filled the air.
"You have trespassed where you should not have."
The shadows parted, revealing a dark figure standing at the edge of the clearing. Cloaked in black, its face obscured, only the glowing red eyes were visible, burning with malice. The very air seemed to bend around the figure, as though it was warping reality itself.
Valen gripped his sword tightly, stepping forward. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head, a slow, deliberate movement. "You do not need to know. Only that you will not leave."
Before anyone could react, the ground beneath their feet split open, and the shadows surged. They wrapped around the scouts like tendrils, pulling them into the ground. Kael screamed as he was dragged into the darkness, his body contorted by the force.
"Fall back!" Valen shouted, but the shadows were relentless. One by one, his men were consumed, their cries silenced as they disappeared into the mist. Valen fought to free himself, his heart pounding as the darkness closed in. He looked back at the figure, but all he could see were those eyes—those burning, hateful eyes.
"You shouldn't have come here," the figure hissed, and the shadows tightened their grip.
With a final, anguished cry, Valen was pulled into the earth.
The dark figure stood alone in the clearing, the bodies of Valen and his men lying motionless on the ground, drained of life. The shadows slithered away, leaving only silence in their wake.
The figure gazed in the direction of Thalorwen, its glowing eyes narrowing. "Soon," it whispered, the shadows coiling around it. "Very soon."
With that, the figure disappeared into the mist, leaving behind only death and silence.