Music recommendation: Way Down We Go" by KALEO
The Veilwood Expanse was an island, an impenetrable mass of dense foliage in the middle of the five kingdoms of Eldranor. A dense, impenetrable forest stretched for miles, its trees towering like watchful sentinels, their gnarled roots twisting into the earth like claws. Mist clung to the ground, refusing to lift even under the midday sun, and an unnatural stillness pervaded the air—a silence so profound that even birds dared not sing.
Few ventured into the Veilwood, and fewer still returned.
Tonight, the forest stirred.
A small caravan of traders, weary from their journey between the fae kingdom of Thalorwen and the human lands of Valdraen, had made the grave mistake of taking the shortcut through the Veilwood Expanse. They were six in number: two human men, three fae women, and a dwarven blacksmith who had reluctantly joined them after a failed deal in Thalorwen.
The group huddled close to their single flickering lantern, its light casting elongated shadows against the mist.
"Keep moving," the dwarf grumbled, his voice low and rough. "The sooner we're out of this cursed place, the better."
"I told you we should've gone around," one of the human men muttered, his eyes darting to the shifting shadows between the trees.
"Quiet," a fae woman hissed, her golden eyes narrowing. "Do you hear that?"
The group froze.
At first, there was nothing but the oppressive silence. Then, faintly, the sound came—a distant hum, low and melodic, like the whisper of a lullaby carried on the wind.
"It's just the wind," one of the humans said, though his voice betrayed his fear.
The fae woman shook her head. "No. That's not the wind."
The humming grew louder, its cadence both haunting and hypnotic. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, wrapping around them like an unseen force. The mist thickened, curling around their ankles, and the air grew colder.
"Don't stop," the dwarf snapped, gripping his hammer tightly. "Keep moving!"
But it was too late.
One by one, the shadows began to shift. Dark figures, amorphous and writhing, emerged from the trees. They didn't walk—they glided, their forms rippling like smoke, their eyes glowing a sickly green.
The fae woman screamed, her voice cutting through the humming, and bolted into the mist.
"Stay together!" the dwarf roared, but his voice was swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
The figures moved swiftly, faster than the eye could follow. The lantern flickered once, twice, and then went out, plunging the group into utter darkness.
The humming rose to a deafening crescendo, and then there was silence.
When the mist cleared, the caravan was gone. The Veilwood Expanse stood as it always had—silent, still, and unyielding.
Back in the Palace
Asher stood at the window of his study, gazing out at the twilight sky. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The tremors that had rattled the land earlier in the week still lingered in his mind, and now, there were whispers of disappearances near the Veilwood.
Hadrien entered without knocking, his expression grim. "The scouts returned."
"And?" Asher asked, turning to face him.
"They found nothing."
Asher frowned. "Nothing?"
"No bodies, no tracks, no signs of a struggle," Hadrien said. "It's as if the caravan vanished into thin air."
Asher's jaw tightened. The Veilwood had always been a place of mystery, but this was something new. Something deliberate.
"What do you think?" Hadrien asked, his voice quieter now.
Asher didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned back to the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I think," he said slowly, "that whatever's hiding in the Veilwood isn't content to stay hidden anymore."
In the Veilwood
Far beneath the tangled roots of the Veilwood Expanse, in a cavern shrouded in darkness, something stirred. The shadows writhed, coalescing into a form that was neither human nor fae. Its glowing green eyes flickered to life, and a voice, deep and guttural, echoed through the cavern.
"They are coming," it hissed, its words dripping with malice. "The gods' creation will fall, and Eldranor will be ours."
A chorus of whispers rose around it, the voices of countless unseen beings filling the cavern with a sinister harmony.
The figure stretched its hand toward a pool of dark, swirling liquid. Images appeared on the surface—Asher, standing on the balcony of his palace; Zarafea, her ethereal beauty dimmed but still radiant; the rulers of the five kingdoms, oblivious to the threat looming over them.
"Soon," the figure said, its voice a promise. "Soon, they will know true despair."
The pool rippled, and the images faded, leaving only darkness behind.