A few hours later, the group arrived at a small clearing. The snow had started to fall steadily, blanketing the ground in a soft white glow. They spotted an abandoned cottage nestled among the trees and decided to take refuge.
"This place looks like it's been empty for decades," Athena murmured, brushing snow off her shoulders as they approached the creaky wooden door.
"Good enough for us," Andrei said, pushing it open. Dust motes danced in the light filtering through the broken windows. "I'll see if I can find something edible nearby. Rabbit stew sounds good?"
"Anything hot sounds perfect," Mathea replied, tugging her cloak tighter. She caught his smirk as he disappeared into the forest.
Later, as the scent of rabbit stew filled the small cottage, the group sat around the fire. Andrei stirred the pot with an exaggerated flourish.
"A chef and a warrior? Is there anything you can't do?" Jea teased, biting into a piece of fruit.
Andrei grinned. "I can't juggle. Tried it once, but ended up with a black eye."
The group laughed, the tension of their journey easing for a moment.
"So, Mathea," Athena said, leaning forward, "you've been quiet. What's your story? Where'd you learn to spy on elves?"
Mathea hesitated, her fingers toying with the hem of her cloak. "Andrei and I are distant cousins," she said finally. "I grew up far from anything royal, believe me. The streets were my school, and when you're desperate enough, you learn to survive. The Elven Kingdom was… just another job."
Jea tilted her head. "I find that hard to believe. You carry yourself like someone used to better."
"Better isn't always safer," Mathea replied cryptically, offering a tight smile. She wasn't about to reveal her lineage—or her connection to King Rhyan.
Andrei raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
The next morning, the group set out early. Mathea tucked a sundial into her satchel, its metallic surface glinting in the weak sunlight.
"Mathea, what's that for?" Athena asked, her brow furrowing.
"This sundial is key to entering the Southern Forest safely," Mathea explained. "We need to infiltrate the forest at a precise time to avoid being cursed."
"Why does it matter so much?" Juan asked, adjusting his sword strap.
Mathea glanced at him, her voice steady. "Illusions, Juan. The forest turns your fears and doubts against you. If we're not perfectly synchronized, we'll face our worst enemies: ourselves."
The group exchanged uneasy glances but nodded in agreement.
As they left the cottage, Jea found her gaze drawn to Andrei. There was an otherworldly confidence in his demeanor, his movements fluid and precise despite the faded magic she could sense within him.
"Your thread… it's fading," Jea murmured under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.
Andrei caught her glance and smiled, his expression infuriatingly calm. "Observant, aren't you?" he said in an old-fashioned accent that only added to his mystery. "Magic is overrated anyway."
Jea frowned. His nonchalance unsettled her. Nobody gave up magic willingly—especially not someone who wore the air of danger so easily. He was too polished, too perfect, and she didn't trust perfection.
By afternoon, they resumed their journey after a brief rest. Mathea led the way, Andrei strolling at her side, his teasing relentless.
"So, cousin," he began, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "when were you planning on telling them about your other secrets?"
"Drop it, Andrei," she hissed, her eyes flashing.
"Fine, fine. Your secret's safe. For now," he said with a wink.
Athena, walking a few steps behind, watched the exchange with growing curiosity. Meanwhile, Juan was deep in conversation with Jea, discussing medicinal plants and healing techniques.
"No one's traveled these trails for years," Jea said, her voice tinged with unease as she glanced at the overgrown path. "Do we even know where we're going?"
Andrei's voice cut through the rising tension. "We'll find someone who does. Someone who knows about Lord Anjo."
The name hung in the cold air like a specter, and the group pressed on, their determination unwavering despite the uncertainty that lay ahead.
The group trudged forward, their breaths misting in the cold mountain air. Each step seemed heavier than the last as exhaustion gnawed at their resolve. Janna's small body enough to perch on Mathea's shoulder, flitted about nervously, while Yhan Yhan padded silently, ears flat against his head as if sensing an unseen danger. The peaks they had scaled earlier now seemed trivial compared to the ominous shadows ahead.
When they finally reached the forest's edge by late afternoon, the sun hung low, casting long, eerie shadows. The path faded into a dark thicket, and an unnatural stillness blanketed the area. Mathea pulled out the sundial, its faintly glowing runes marking the precise moment to enter.
"This is it," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind rustling the gnarled branches.
The group exchanged uneasy glances but nodded. As the exact time struck, they stepped into the forest together.
Athena broke the silence first. "This is by far the creepiest place I've ever been. And the darkest." Her voice wavered as she scanned the towering trees, their twisted branches forming an impenetrable canopy.
"Come on, Athena," Jea said with a smirk. "I'm not even from this realm, and I'm not complaining." She gestured to Yhan Yhan, who had gone uncharacteristically quiet. "Why don't you ask your pet how far we are from being eaten alive? She seems to know something."
Athena frowned but knelt beside the lion, running her fingers through its fur. "What is it, girl? What's wrong?"
The lion let out a low, trembling growl but refused to move further. Athena's unease deepened. "She's… scared. Yhan Yhan is never scared."
Mathea's voice cut through the tension. "Let's keep moving. Staying here won't help anyone."
Jea lagged behind, her eyes darting nervously to the moving shadows. "Andrei," she whispered, stepping closer to him. "Why are we even here? This place feels… wrong. How can you be so sure we'll find what we're looking for?"
Andrei didn't answer immediately. His face was unreadable, though a flicker of something crossed his features—determination, or perhaps desperation. "Because I have to be," he said finally. His tone left no room for argument.
Unbeknownst to the group, Andrei's reasons for entering the Dark Forest went far beyond their mission. He clenched his fists as he walked, the familiar hum of his magic now completely absent. The emptiness gnawed at him, leaving him vulnerable in a way he hadn't experienced in centuries.
He knew that deep within this forest lay the answer he sought. The dark warlock. A figure shrouded in myth and terror, the warlock was said to wield power that rivaled the king Rhyan and King Jay themselves. He was the one who had gifted Lord Anjo his dark magic, and if anyone could restore Andrei's power, it was him.