The dense canopy of the Eldergloom forest swallowed what little moonlight filtered through, casting everything into a twilight gloom. Reiner's breath was ragged, each step a careful negotiation with the gnarled roots and thorns that clawed at his boots. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the subtle rustle of unseen creatures slithering in the underbrush.
The whispers had grown louder, weaving through the air like a malevolent symphony. They spoke in fractured phrases, words in a language that prickled at the edges of Reiner's memory, tugging at his mind like an old, half-forgotten lullaby. But amidst the cacophony, one word rang clear: "Corvus." His name, spoken with a thousand voices, some soft as a lover's murmur, others sharp as a scream.
Reiner tightened his grip on his bow, the wood creaking under his strain. He forced himself to breathe, the journal in his satchel feeling like a leaden weight against his side. He glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning for movement, but the darkness was complete, oppressive. It felt as if the forest itself was alive, watching him, breathing with him.
The path ahead split into two, a fork shrouded in twisting vines and thick shadow. One trail descended into deeper darkness, a tunnel of trees so tightly wound their branches formed a barrier overhead. The other glistened with dew, leading into a clearing where pale, luminescent flowers glowed softly, casting the ground in an eerie light.
Reiner's pulse quickened. He had read about such places in Merric's journal—clearing-lights, the blooms of witch's lament. They were both a warning and an invitation, a paradox that spoke to the forest's trickster nature. To stray from the path meant facing unknown perils, but the marked had no true path to follow. They walked only where the Eldergloom willed.
A sudden snap echoed behind him, sharp and close. Reiner whirled around, bow drawn, an arrow ready to fly. His eyes met darkness, but there was something there—a silhouette that seemed to meld with the forest itself, watching with eyes that reflected the dim glow of the flowers.
"Who's there?" Reiner demanded, the tension in his voice betraying the calm he tried to project.
The figure did not move. It stood silent, tall, its limbs elongated and shifting as if woven from shadow and smoke. The whispers quieted, replaced by a low, resonant hum that pulsed in Reiner's ears. For a heartbeat, he thought it might speak, that the eerie shape had come to relay a message. But then, as suddenly as it appeared, the figure sank into the earth, vanishing as if it had never been.
Reiner's breath came in shallow gasps. The forest was toying with him. He knew the tales—how it liked to break a man's mind before breaking his body. He had to move.
He turned to the path that led into the clearing. The pale glow of the witch's lament felt like salvation compared to the suffocating darkness of the other route. Each step closer revealed more—delicate petals that unfurled with a sigh, releasing motes of light that floated lazily into the air. The moment he stepped into the clearing, the oppressive weight on his chest lifted, just enough for him to catch his breath.
But the relief was fleeting. In the center of the clearing stood an altar, ancient and overgrown with ivy, its stone surface etched with runes that mirrored those in Merric's journal. Reiner's eyes widened. This was no mere relic; it was a gateway, a marker tied to the fate of the marked. He felt the burn of the Shadowmark on his hand intensify, the throbbing almost unbearable.
The whispers surged again, louder, more insistent, weaving into a chant that spoke of sacrifice and blood, of choices that would reshape fate.
"What do you want from me?" Reiner shouted, the echo of his voice swallowed by the forest. His question was met with silence—but not emptiness. From the depths of the woods, a single voice, deep and ancient, rumbled.
"We watch, Corvus. We wait."
The ground beneath him trembled, and a shadow moved across the altar, forming the outline of an eye—a symbol that stared into his soul, unblinking, hungry.
And in that moment, Reiner knew the Eldergloom had only begun to reveal its true self.