The soft hum of the Evergreen Forest seemed to mock the immortals as they combed through the dense trees, searching for any sign of Luna. Each step felt like an eternity, every rustle of leaves making their hearts jump with anticipation, only to reveal nothing but shadows. The canopy above was thick, allowing only threads of light to reach the forest floor, casting eerie shapes around them.
"Luna!" Elara's voice echoed through the trees, but there was no answer, only the soft hiss of the wind. Her frustration grew with each unanswered call, her wings twitching as her anxiety bubbled to the surface.
Nearby, Eirik moved like a storm, his expression frantic. His usually steady composure had crumbled under the weight of responsibility—this month, he was in charge of Luna, and now she was missing. His mind raced with dark possibilities, every shadow in the woods feeling like a lurking threat.
"We've looked everywhere!" Eirik finally snapped, his voice raw with panic. "What if… what if something terrible has already happened? What if some beast found her before we did? Or worse…" His words faltered, but the implication hung heavily in the air.
The immortals froze at his outburst, their hearts seizing with the same dread. Thalos clenched his fists, casting a sharp glance around the silent forest as if expecting a beast to leap out from the underbrush.
Before the panic could spread, Isolde stepped forward, her voice cutting through the rising fear like a blade. "Stop," she said, her tone calm but firm. "We mustn't think that way."
Eirik turned to her, frustration clear on his face. "Isolde, how can we not? Luna is—"
"Stop," she repeated, more softly this time. "In my homeland, we say, 'The tongue is a weaver, what it spins, the mind will wear.' If we allow our thoughts to spiral into darkness, then darkness is all we'll see. It's not Luna who will be lost to it—it's us."
Her words brought a hush over the group. The proverb held the weight of wisdom, the kind that was carried through generations. Even the trees seemed to hold their breath, listening.
Nyssa, who had been silent, stepped forward and nodded. "Isolde's right. In my homeland, there's a tale we often tell to children—a reminder of the power of thoughts." She paused, gathering her words. "Long ago, there was a village that faced disaster. Crops had withered, the air was thick with illness, and the people feared the worst. The more they feared, the more they acted out of desperation—hoarding food, turning against each other. The village fell into chaos."
The immortals listened closely, their gazes fixed on Nyssa as she continued. "But one elder stood up amidst the chaos and said, 'If we believe in our downfall, it will happen. But if we believe in our survival, we will find a way.' Slowly, the people began to change. They shared what little food they had, cared for one another, and, against all odds, the crops returned, and the sickness left."
Eirik's tense features softened as Nyssa's story sank in. He exhaled deeply, the weight of his fear lifting slightly.
"The point is," Nyssa continued, "if we let our thoughts stray into darkness, then we invite that darkness to become real. We must focus on finding Luna—on hope."
Lucius, who had been pacing anxiously, stopped and glanced at Nyssa. "We need to believe we'll find her," he murmured, mostly to himself, but the words seemed to resonate through the group.
Elara smiled faintly. "Luna is strong. We've seen that already. And we're not going to give up."
The atmosphere shifted, the fog of fear lifting as their resolve solidified. One by one, the immortals nodded, reaffirming their commitment to finding the little girl they had all grown to care for.
Thalos cracked his knuckles. "Alright then. Let's stop wasting time and focus."
They spread out once again, moving with renewed purpose. Their eyes were sharper now, searching not just for danger but for signs of hope. Minutes passed like hours, but they pressed on, determined.
Then, Kael, whose sharp eyes missed nothing, froze mid-step. He crouched low to the ground, inspecting something near the base of a tree. "Look at this," he called out quietly, motioning the others over.
The immortals gathered around him, peering down at the small indentations in the dirt. Tiny, light footsteps that wound through the underbrush.
"Those aren't Luna's footprints," Kael said, his voice low, "but they belong to Pip."
A glimmer of hope sparked in Eirik's eyes. "Pip was here… which means Luna must be nearby."
"He must've been chasing her," Elara added, her wings fluttering in anticipation.
"Then we follow Pip's trail," Thalos said, rising to his full height. "It's the best lead we've got."
They set off again, following the tiny footsteps deeper into the forest. The trees grew thicker as they ventured farther, the light dimming, but their focus never wavered. The path wound and twisted through the trees, until it finally led them to a strange, unfamiliar area.
In the distance, hidden in the shadow of the trees, was a nest-like structure woven between the branches, low to the ground. It was large, unnervingly so, with dark, bramble-like vines entwined around it.
Nyssa's eyes widened as recognition dawned on her. "The Gloomlings," she whispered.
The immortals stood still for a moment, gazing at the strange nest. Tension returned, but this time it wasn't rooted in fear of the unknown. It was determination—knowing that Luna was close, and that they were ready to face whatever came next.