The climb grew colder with every step. Trees, once vibrant and full, now stood gnarled and lifeless, their twisted limbs casting long, skeletal shadows across the forest floor. The sun overhead was a muted gray, as though cloaked in ash. The air itself seemed heavier, each breath harder to take.
Aria walked near the back of the group, her boots crunching on frost-bitten leaves. The bow across her shoulder was a familiar comfort, but her unease gnawed at her. She kept a wary eye on Amelia, who trailed behind the group, her hands trembling as she clutched her arms to her chest.
Spyro, leading the way, stopped abruptly. His golden eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply. "The magic is stronger here," he said, his voice low. "We're getting close."
Simon, standing beside him, adjusted the hilt of his sword. "Close to what?"
Spyro tilted his head toward the treetops, his expression unreadable. "Something old. And powerful."
Amelia let out a small, pained whimper, drawing the group's attention. She was mumbling incoherently, her hands clutching at her temples. "We shouldn't be here. He's watching—he always watches…"
Aria's patience snapped. "Enough." She spun around to face Amelia, her voice sharp and cutting. "You've been acting like this since we started. What are you hiding?"
Amelia froze, her wide, tear-filled eyes darting between the group. "You don't understand," she whispered. "You can't understand."
"Then help us, try," Spyro said, his tone steady but firm.
The group stopped in a small clearing, the oppressive silence making the space feel claustrophobic. Aria planted her hands on her hips, glaring at Amelia. "Start talking. What do you know about this place? About the cult?"
Amelia hesitated, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Finally, she crumpled to her knees, her voice breaking as the words spilled out. "I didn't want to do it. They—they made me."
Simon crouched down beside her, his expression softening. "What did they make you do, Amelia?"
Her gaze flicked to him, then dropped to the ground. "When they took me…they forced me to participate in their rituals." Her voice faltered. "They…they made me kill a child."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Aria's eyes widened in shock, her stomach churning. "What?"
Amelia's hands curled into fists against the dirt. "The cult gathered in a circle. They used me to summon creatures…death elf's… they were chanting, and the magic—it was everywhere, pressing down on me, forcing me to…" Her voice cracked. "There was a child, no older than ten. They handed me the dagger. Told me if I didn't do it, they'd kill me—and more."
She looked up, tears streaming down her face. "I can still see their eyes. Hear their screams. I can feel their blood on me."
Silence fell over the group, broken only by Amelia's muffled sobs.
Spyro's jaw tightened, his golden eyes dark. "The cult uses fear and coercion to break people. You're not the first. I was sick to my stomach reading about them."
Simon rested a hand on Amelia's shoulder. "You survived. That's what matters now."
Aria, however, was less forgiving. Her fists clenched at her sides, her voice shaking with barely contained anger. "You killed a child, and you expect me to just…understand?!"
"I didn't have a choice!" Amelia cried, her voice desperate.
"There's always a damn choice," Aria shot back.
"Enough!" Spyro's voice cut through the tension like a blade. He turned to Aria, his expression hard. "This isn't helping."
Aria glared at him but bit back her retort. She turned away, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
Spyro helped Amelia to her feet. "What's done is done. What matters now is stopping the cult—and whatever bastard they serve."
Amelia flinched at that. "Don't say that about him," she whispered. "He's still alive. He's watching us. Always watching."
"Who?" Simon asked gently.
"The Leader," Amelia replied, her voice barely audible. "He sees everything. He knows we're here."
Spyro frowned. "Then we need to move quickly."
As they pressed on, the forest grew darker, the trees more twisted. Spyro knelt near a cluster of rocks, tracing faint carvings etched into their surface. "These runes…they're wards. Markers for ritual sites."
Nearby, Simon examined a scorch mark in the soil. "Something was burned here. Recently."
Aria's gaze fell on a decayed campsite, its remains scattered and forgotten. A small, bloodied shoe lay half-buried in the dirt. Her breath caught in her throat.
Amelia froze at the sight, her body trembling violently. "No…no, no, no," she whispered, backing away.
Aria felt her anger rise again, but before she could speak, Spyro stood abruptly. "This way," he said, his voice tense. "The magic is stronger ahead."
They followed Spyro's lead until they reached the mouth of a massive cave. The opening yawned before them, dark and foreboding, its jagged edges resembling teeth. A cold, unnatural wind seeped from within, carrying a faint metallic tang.
Spyro stopped, his body rigid. "The air's thick with magic. This is it."
Amelia stumbled back, shaking her head. "I'm not going in there. I can't."
Aria grabbed her by the arm, her grip firm. "You're coming with us," she said coldly. "You owe me this—for Cody."
Amelia's wide eyes met hers, and for a moment, she looked like she might collapse. But she nodded, her lips trembling.
The group stood outside the cave, their breaths visible in the frigid air. No one spoke, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on them.
And then, one by one, they began to prepare.
Spyro stole a glance at Aria. She clutched her bow tightly in her hand and her free hand hovered over her quiver.
She was ready.
He looked at Simon who seemed as confident as ever. Standing tall and looking straight into the cave.
Then his gaze landed on Amelia. The woman was shaking. Her breathing rough and dry. At least she had clean clothes to wear now, he thought and turned to the entrance of the cave. Letting out a heavy sigh.
"Let's go."