The trek through the grove felt interminable. As Jon followed the ghostly figure of the cursed woman, the trees loomed tall and twisted above them, their ancient branches intertwining to form a dense canopy that blocked out the pale moonlight. The air grew heavier with each step, as though the very earth beneath him resisted his presence. Roots jutted out from the ground, threatening to trip him at every turn, and the scent of wet leaves and decay thickened with each breath. The oppressive darkness around him clung like a second skin, crawling up his spine as though the woods themselves were alive.
Jon kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, his crimson eyes ever alert. Even with the cursed woman leading him, he knew better than to trust his surroundings. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set his senses on edge, and the shadows between the trees seemed to shift as though something lurked just out of sight, watching. He didn't like being followed.
"Is it much farther?" Jon asked, breaking the silence. His voice was a low growl, rough from disuse.
The woman, still gliding ahead of him, didn't turn to face him. Instead, her voice echoed back, soft and distant. "Not much farther now. The tree awaits... as it always has."
As she spoke, Jon noticed a change in the air. The trees began to thin, and a cold wind swept through the clearing ahead. He could make out the silhouette of something massive—a tree larger than any he'd seen before. The ancient oak stood at the center of the clearing, its gnarled roots sprawling across the ground like the fingers of some great beast. The trunk was split down the middle, creating a jagged, dark opening that seemed to devour the light around it.
"This is it," the woman said, her voice barely a whisper now. She stopped a few paces from the oak, her pale form blending with the mist that clung to the ground. "Beyond this lies the path to the mirror's power."
Jon stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined the ancient tree. Its bark was blackened, charred in places as though touched by fire, yet it pulsed with a faint, unnatural energy. He could feel it, the dark magic that lingered here, old and potent. This was no ordinary oak; it was as much a part of the curse as the mirror itself.
He ran his hand along the bark, the rough texture gritty beneath his fingertips. "The tree itself... it's tied to the mirror, isn't it?"
The woman nodded slowly. "It once stood as a protector. But now it has become a doorway—twisted, like all things touched by the mirror."
Jon took a breath, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "What lies beyond? More shadows? More cursed creatures?"
"Only darkness. But it will not face you as I do now. It will fight you—resist you. The mirror does not wish to be disturbed." The woman's eyes met his, a flicker of something almost human crossing her face. "But remember this, Jon: you carry the blood of both light and shadow. The mirror will recognize that. It may seek to twist it to its own ends."
"I've heard enough," Jon said, the edge in his voice clear. "I'll face whatever it sends. Guide me no further."
He turned toward the opening in the tree, his crimson eyes scanning the dark tunnel beyond. It was narrow, but wide enough for him to maneuver, though the space would make swinging his greatsword difficult. Still, the sense of foreboding that hung in the air only heightened his resolve.
He took a deep breath and crouched low, squeezing through the jagged crack in the tree's base. As he disappeared into the darkness, the woman lingered at the edge of the clearing, her hand drifting up to the amulet around her neck.