The Va'Korin encampment was alive with anticipation as Rylan and Chieftess Kaela made their way through the forest paths toward the secluded grove where the shaman council awaited. Word had spread quickly of Drakkenfell's alchemical weapon, and the Va'Korin warriors gathered in groups around the campfires, their expressions somber, their voices hushed. The warriors were fierce, proud, and unyielding, but tonight there was a tension in the air that even they could not ignore.
Rylan followed Kaela, his mind focused on the task ahead. He felt the weight of Lady Aria's trust and the stakes of their alliance pressing heavily on him. The grove opened up before them, surrounded by ancient trees whose gnarled branches twisted high above, forming a natural canopy. The Va'Korin shamans sat in a circle around a central fire, their faces painted in the earthen colors of their tribes, each one wearing beads, feathers, and symbols of their clan. Their eyes held the wisdom of the wildlands, a knowledge as deep and unfathomable as the forest itself.
Kaela led him forward, gesturing for him to kneel before the council, and took her own seat among them. The head shaman, an elderly woman with piercing green eyes and white hair braided with feathers, spoke first. Her voice was soft yet commanding, like the murmur of a river under moonlight.
"Rylan of Eryndor," she began, "you come to us bearing news of a darkness that reaches beyond our lands, a darkness that threatens even the roots of our sacred trees."
Rylan nodded, meeting her gaze with respect. "Yes, Elder. Drakkenfell has created a weapon, an alchemical elixir called Mortalis. It corrupts everything it touches—magic, land, even those who consume it. If it is spread here, it could poison the wildlands, robbing them of life and strength."
The shaman's eyes narrowed, and a low murmur passed through the council. They exchanged looks of grim understanding, each one recognizing the gravity of his words.
"Mortalis," one of the younger shamans echoed, her voice tinged with fear. "I have heard of such a poison only in whispers. The dark magic of ancient times… twisted, impure."
Kaela spoke then, her voice steady. "We must prepare for its spread. Lady Aria has sent Rylan to learn if there is a way to cleanse the land should Drakkenfell succeed in their plans. He brings knowledge of a ritual—the Purging Rite—that may offer a path to countering the corruption."
The head shaman's gaze flickered, her face betraying a flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by a solemn resolve. "The Purging Rite is no mere spell," she warned, her voice low. "It is an ancient bond, a joining of life forces that requires two souls—one shaman, one warrior—willing to risk their very essence. If they succeed, the land may be cleansed. But if they fail… they will become part of the corruption they sought to banish."
Rylan nodded, understanding the gravity of the ritual and the risks it entailed. "Eryndor stands ready to help, Elder. We know this is a sacrifice that requires strength from both of our peoples. I came here to ask if your shamans would be willing to join with one of our warriors."
The elder shaman's face softened slightly, her gaze shifting to Kaela. "The Va'Korin would fight this darkness on our own if we could. But this is a threat beyond our strength alone. For such a bond to be made, it must be of the willing… and the worthy."
She looked at each shaman in turn, and then to Kaela, who inclined her head. The head shaman continued, her voice steady. "Rylan, your arrival and the trust you have earned among us have not gone unnoticed. You carry the blessing of both Eryndor and Va'Korin, and perhaps this journey was meant to prepare you for more than you realized."
Rylan's eyes widened slightly, but he held his ground, his heart pounding. "Are you saying… that I would be the one to join in the Purging Rite?"
Kaela's gaze met his, fierce and unwavering. "You have proven yourself a warrior, Rylan. But more importantly, you have shown that you understand the spirit of our people. The shamans believe that if you are willing, you may be the one to complete this bond."
The gravity of her words settled over him, the weight of the responsibility almost crushing. To willingly bind his life force with a shaman's, to risk becoming a part of the corruption he sought to banish—was he truly prepared to face such a sacrifice?
He took a deep breath, his mind steadying. "If this is what is needed to save Eryndor and Va'Korin alike, then I am willing. I will do whatever it takes."
A murmur passed through the shamans, some nodding in approval, others watching him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. The head shaman raised a hand, quieting them. She stepped forward, her eyes piercing as she looked deep into his soul.
"The rite must be performed in a place of power, where the boundaries between life and death are thin," she said. "There is a sacred glade at the heart of Va'Korin, where the oldest trees stand. It is there that you and the chosen shaman will perform the rite."
She turned to Kaela, nodding once. Kaela stood and gestured for Rylan to follow her to the edge of the grove, where the night was quiet and the stars shone above like watchful eyes.
"The shamans will select one of their own to join you in this task," Kaela said, her voice softer now. "They will undergo their own preparations, for this is a journey both physical and spiritual. Rest tonight. When the time comes, you will be summoned."
Rylan nodded, feeling the weight of her words but also a calm resolve. He found a place near the edge of the camp, settling down to rest. But sleep did not come easily; his mind was a tumult of thoughts, memories, and quiet fears. He was a scout, a warrior, a servant of Eryndor. He had never imagined himself bound to the ancient magic of the land, or to the spirits that lay beyond.
In the morning, he was awakened by a soft touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see the young shaman who had spoken of the Dark Elixir the night before. She looked down at him with quiet strength, her expression unreadable.
"Come," she said softly. "The council has chosen, and the rite must begin."
Rylan rose, gathering his resolve as he followed her through the camp and deeper into the forest. They passed towering trees that seemed to bow over them, as if aware of the purpose that drew them forward. The air grew thick with the scent of earth and moss, and Rylan could feel the weight of the spirits pressing close, watching.
At last, they entered the sacred glade. Ancient trees circled the clearing, their trunks massive, roots twisting along the ground like veins. At the center of the glade stood a small altar made of polished stone, adorned with carvings so worn by time that their shapes were nearly indistinguishable.
Waiting at the altar was the head shaman and, beside her, a figure cloaked in deep blue, face hidden by a hood. As Rylan approached, the figure lowered the hood, revealing the solemn, determined gaze of the young shaman who had led him here.
She gave him a small nod, her expression resolute. "I am Lia, chosen by the council to undertake the Purging Rite with you."
Rylan met her gaze, a surge of respect and gratitude rising within him. "Thank you, Lia. It is an honor to join you in this."
The head shaman began to speak, her voice resonant with a power that seemed to draw from the very earth beneath them. "The Purging Rite binds two souls—one of the land, one of the blade. Together, you will channel your life forces to cleanse the corruption that seeks to invade these sacred lands."
She placed a hand on each of their shoulders, her eyes closing as she chanted in the ancient tongue, calling upon the Beast God, the spirits of the ancestors, and the strength of the wildlands. Rylan could feel the energy rising around them, thick and powerful, as if the very air pulsed with life.
Lia extended her hand, her voice soft yet unwavering. "Rylan, by this rite, we will become bound. Our fates will be one, and should we succeed, the corruption will be cleansed. If we fail, our spirits will linger, cursed to guard these lands."
He took her hand, feeling a strange warmth radiate from her touch. "I am ready, Lia. Let's do this—for Eryndor, for Va'Korin."
They stood side by side, and the head shaman raised her hands, beginning the incantation that would begin the rite. The earth beneath their feet trembled as the words filled the air, swirling around them like a tempest. A faint light emanated from the altar, spreading outward in a circle until it enveloped both Rylan and Lia, binding them within its glow.
A sudden, intense pain shot through him, as if fire and ice coursed through his veins simultaneously. He gritted his teeth, holding tightly to Lia's hand as their life forces intertwined, the energy blending and twisting, becoming something greater than either of them.
Visions filled his mind—images of ancient battles, of forests untouched by human hands, of spirits wandering beneath starlit skies. He could feel Lia's presence within him, her strength and resolve merging with his own as their energies combined, forming a powerful shield against the dark alchemy that threatened them.
The ground beneath them cracked, and a shadow rose from the earth, a writhing, dark tendril that seemed to pulse with malevolence. The corruption fought against their combined strength, lashing out, but Rylan and Lia stood firm, pouring their essence into the rite, their spirits forming a barrier that pushed the darkness back.
The struggle intensified, the pain growing sharper, but they did not yield. Together, they channeled the purging force, focusing their will, their resolve, until at last, with a final burst of light, the shadow was driven back, dissolved into the earth as the corruption was purged from the glade.
When the light faded, Rylan felt a profound exhaustion settle over him, but also a sense of peace. Lia's hand was still clasped in his, her face pale but resolute. They had succeeded.
The head shaman stepped forward, her face softened by a rare smile. "The Purging Rite is complete. You have cleansed the corruption from this land, and your bond shall serve as a protection for Eryndor and Va'Korin alike."
As they left the glade, Rylan felt an unbreakable connection to Lia and the wildlands, a bond that would endure beyond this battle. He knew that, with allies like the Va'Korin, they would stand ready for whatever darkness Drakkenfell dared to summon.
The shadows would come, but now he knew they would not face them alone.