"Ropes, boots, cloak, rations, water, meat maggots, knife, fire stone, tent, and the Lamp of Light," the Traveller murmured, checking off the items in his pack. "Two hours past dawn already. We can't tarry any longer, or they'll discover what happened."
The Lamp of Light, one of their most precious items, emitted a weakened version of the radiant light from the Tower. It could repel darkness and keep tainted magic at bay, but its energy was limited. They would need to use it sparingly.
They reached the outer walls of Darkglades just as the day was about to begin in earnest. The Traveler had found a spot where the buildings near the walls rose higher than the defenses. It wasn't too difficult to make the jump with the right angle, and a rope to scale down the other side would see them safely out.
As they prepared for their escape, the Traveller unwrapped the Ghoul Sword, which had been concealed since they left the tavern. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, supernatural strength surged through him. Lucian, inhabiting a meat maggot as a temporary host, felt the creature grow more aggressive, its form slowly mutating, as it were taking on the price of the Ghoul Sword. The mutation was one of the new prices the sword had after consuming the flesh of a Fell— the enhancement too became stronger.
Lucian could feel it—the creeping darkness, the taint of magic around them. As they descended from the wall, the air seemed thicker, charged with unseen forces. The light from the Tower no longer reached this far, and outside its protective glow, the taint of magic permeated everything. The corrupted magic in the air was invasive, seeping into their bodies, trying to worm its way into the Traveller's soul, to corrupt him, turn him into a Fell. But Lucian absorbed it for him, shielding the Traveller from the taint.
They continued on, the world beyond the walls of Darkglades stretching out before them like an endless void. The journey ahead would be long and arduous, filled with dangers they could only guess at. The Blackwater Creek flowed nearby, a dark, winding river that marked their path toward Rivenfair, one of the province's major cities. If they could reach Rivenfair, they might find refuge.
The cobblestone road was almost unrecognisable, overrun by vegetation twisted by the dark magic that saturated the land. The Dark forest surrounded Darkglades. The trees and plants here took on a sickly, blackish hue. The twisted foliage gleamed faintly under the crimson light of the moon, which only added to their sinister appearance. Without the protection of the Tower's light, the plants absorbed the magic of the Crimson Moon to survive, warping into something unnatural.
"These plants... they grow so fast," Lucian muttered, his voice tinged with unease. The road was choked with overgrowth, making it hard to navigate.
"They've been feeding on the taint," the Traveller replied, his voice low. "This place is crawling with dark magic."
As they moved, the vines and roots seemed to have developed a predatory instinct, creeping toward them, seeking to ensnare their legs and drag them into the undergrowth. Every few steps, the Traveller had to cut through the writhing plants with the Ghoul Sword. Each slice was met with resistance, the blade biting deep into the fleshy vines. A blood-red liquid oozed from the severed roots, dripping onto the ground like tainted blood. The sight of it made Lucian shudder.
The Ghoul Sword enhanced the Traveller's senses, allowing him to see in the perpetual twilight outside the town's boundaries. The Lamp of Light remained unlit—they couldn't risk drawing attention to themselves, and its energy was limited.
The world around them was eerily silent, save for the soft crunch of their footsteps and the occasional rustle of the wind through the twisted trees. There was no birdsong, no animal calls—nothing but the oppressive stillness. In this dark forest, those that made a sound, those that made themselves known are the first to die. He felt it, the prickling sensation of unseen eyes watching from the shadows.
Lucian's thoughts raced. What's out there? Is something following us? Every rustle of leaves or creak of branches set his nerves on edge. He could feel the darkness pressing in on them, a malevolent presence just out of sight. "I don't like this," Lucian whispered, his voice trembling slightly, though he tried to sound calm.
"Scared?" the Traveller asked with a grin, though there was a trace of tension in his voice. After some practice he realised he telepathically communicate with Lucian though their magical connection.
Lucian didn't respond. He couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike.
"You don't need to be scared. Nothing can harm you in this form. The worst that can happen is you seeing your body being teared to shred by monstrous creatures and you are forsaken to forever wonder in this darken forest, alone, in the dark..." the Traveller joked, though somewhere in there, was a hint of fear in his voice as well.
"That is not helping."
"Don't worry, I was joking you will fade into nothingness if I die so there is no eternal torment."
"Still not helping."
They pressed on, the dense forest swallowing the road ahead of them. Twisted branches curled overhead like skeletal fingers, and roots thick with dark magic slithered beneath their feet. The deeper they ventured, the more the world seemed to distort, the crimson glow of the moon casting everything in a sickly red hue.
"I hope Rivenfair is nothing like Darkglades," Lucian muttered trying to distract himself from his fear, though his eyes are still scanning the darkened forest, "The story tell of Rivenfair, as realm filled with light. They say instead of the Crimson Moon, it is the White Sun that shines in their sky."
"It sounds like a beautiful place," The Traveller replied, though he wasn't entirely convinced. The tainted magic of the land had a way of creeping in, even in places where light still shone.
"I came from a place where there is both a sun and moon. They are not source of magic but giant, giant object from very far away. The sun and moon would rise and fall with the turning of our planet, our land. We even step foot on the moon."
"Moon that rises and falls, and a land that turn? The moon is an object that someone can go to?" Lucian asked, "your world is even more crazy than this one."
"Perhaps, it is,"
A sharp rustling sound shattered the silence, cutting through the stillness like a blade. The Traveller's hand instinctively flew to the hilt of the Ghoul Sword, muscles tensing as his eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness. Lucian, inhabiting the meat maggot, could feel the spike in tension, his senses heightened by the fear simmering just beneath the surface.
The sound grew louder, shifting from a faint rustle to something more deliberate—like movement, deliberate and slow, stalking them. The shadows seemed to deepen, and yet nothing was visible. No distinct shape, no silhouette breaking the eerie stillness.
The Traveller's eyes darted from tree to tree, trying to catch any sign of what lurked in the oppressive darkness. His grip on the Ghoul Sword tightened, the supernatural strength from the blade thrumming through his veins. He could feel it—something was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. The air grew thick with the tainted magic that permeated the land, the weight of it pressing down on them, making it harder to breathe. Whatever was stalking them, it was biding its time. It wasn't just the ordinary darkness of night; it was something far more sinister. The Crimson Moon above bathed everything in a blood-red glow, making the twisted trees and writhing undergrowth seem even more alien.
Lucian felt the fear rising in his ghostly form, an instinctual dread that gnawed at him. Even though he no longer had a body that could be harmed, the primal urge to flee was overwhelming. He could feel the oppressive magic of the forest closing in, his focus wavering. But he forced himself to remain steady. They couldn't afford panic.
They pressed forward, but with each step, the forest seemed to resist them. The Traveller swung the Ghoul Sword, cleaving through a thick cluster of vines, the blade cutting effortlessly through the tangled mass. The severed vines oozed a thick, blood-red sap, staining the ground with its unnatural hue. But as the Traveller slashed through the undergrowth, the forest fought back. More vines surged forward, faster and more aggressive, as if reacting to the attack. They twisted around his ankles, trying to pull him down, and the roots beneath the soil seemed to writhe with life.
"Damn it!" the Traveller cursed under his breath, hacking furiously at the encroaching vines. No matter how many he cut down, more seemed to take their place, multiplying and coiling around him. The vegetation was alive—more than alive—it was hunting them.
Lucian, inhabiting the meat maggot, could feel the dark magic pulsing through the forest. He absorbed what he could, but the taint was overwhelming. It was as though the very earth beneath their feet was trying to consume them.
Then, through the dense, pulsating undergrowth, the Traveller noticed something. The vegetation wasn't just randomly reacting to them—it was being guided. Wherever he stepped, the vines and roots surged with life. There was something out there, controlling it, something following them.
The Traveller stilled for a moment, focusing his senses. A faint sound—hooves, slow and deliberate, echoing through the trees. His eyes flicked toward the shadows, and there it was: a figure moving gracefully through the forest.
It was a Fell—a monstrous, deer-like creature, but twisted by the taint of magic. Its massive antlers weren't bone, but living, writhing vines, shifting with malevolent life and dripping with poisonous sap. The creature's eyes glowed with a sickly green light, pulsing with madness. As it moved, the forest itself responded, the trees groaning as their roots writhed from the earth, the undergrowth pulsing with an eerie, faint luminescence.
Lucian's voice trembled inside the Traveller's mind. It's controlling the forest!
The Traveller's gaze locked onto the Fell, and he knew—if they didn't get rid of it, the forest would devour them. There was no choice.
Without hesitation, he charged.
The Fell moved with unnatural speed, its twisted form blurring as it darted between the trees, its antlers tearing through the undergrowth like claws. Roots shot up from the ground, trying to ensnare the Traveller's legs, but he leaped over them, the Ghoul Sword flashing in the crimson light. He could feel the taint of the forest pressing down on him, the dark magic trying to seep into his bones, but Lucian absorbed the worst of it, shielding him from the corruption.
The Fell lunged, its antlers sweeping down like whips, aiming for the Traveller's throat. He raised the Ghoul Sword just in time, the blade catching the twisted vines and slicing through them. Poisonous sap splattered across the ground, sizzling where it landed, but the Fell didn't slow. It reared up on its hind legs, letting out a bone-chilling screech as it summoned more vines from the earth to attack.
The Traveller ignored its attacks, his skin and muscles hardened with the Flesh to Steel magic.The Ghoul Sword pulsed with power as he struck again, cleaving through the second Fell's antler. The creature howled, its body convulsing as the corrupted magic spilled out from the severed vines. The Fell is weakened, without it antlers it seems incapable of controlling the vegetation around them.
With a final burst of strength, he plunged the Ghoul Sword into the creature's chest, the blade piercing through flesh and vine alike. The Fell let out a shriek, its body writhing in agony as the dark magic consuming it was unleashed in a violent wave.
The creature collapsed, its twisted form dissolving into a mass of writhing roots and vines, the poison sap seeping into the ground. The forest seemed to still, the oppressive magic loosening its grip on the air.
But as the Traveller stood panting over the fallen creature, he realized something wasn't right.
They have left the path and entered the forest.
The twisted trees, the overgrown vines, they were changing, shift, reshaping the path they had came through. The sign of battle and the trial they made were disappearing.
The Traveller ran in the direction from which they came. But he had ran for much longer than he had during the battle and the road and the river was still no where to be seen.
The Traveller cursed under his breath, looking around for any familiar landmark, but everything seemed to twist and warp in the darkness. The trees had closed in around them, the path they had walked now gone, swallowed by the living forest.