The forest loomed ahead, its tangled branches forming a canopy that swallowed the pale morning light. The Deadwoods were aptly named—there was no sound of birdsong, no rustle of leaves in the breeze. Only an eerie stillness, as though the forest itself were holding its breath.
Eran hesitated at the edge of the woods, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, glancing at Lyra.
"It's the only way," she replied, adjusting the straps of her pack. "The council rarely sends patrols into the Deadwoods. Too many… unknowns."
Eran raised an eyebrow. "Unknowns?"
Lyra sighed. "Legends, mostly. Stories of creatures that roam the woods—things that even the council fears. We'll be fine as long as we stick to the path and keep moving."
"Comforting," Eran muttered, but he followed her into the shadows.
A World Out of Time
The path through the forest was narrow and overgrown, forcing them to walk single file. The air was thick and damp, carrying a faint metallic tang that made Eran's skin prickle.
As they walked, Eran noticed the peculiar state of the trees. Their bark was cracked and pale, like old bones, and their roots twisted unnaturally, defying gravity in places. He reached out to touch one, but Lyra grabbed his wrist.
"Don't," she warned, her voice low. "The trees here… they're not like normal trees. Some say they're remnants of the Rift's first tears in time."
Eran pulled his hand back, unnerved. "What does that even mean?"
"It means they don't belong to this time," Lyra explained. "Or any time. The Rift warps everything it touches, and the Deadwoods have been caught in its wake for centuries."
The thought sent a shiver down Eran's spine. He glanced at the Keystone, its steady glow a small reassurance in the oppressive gloom.
Voices in the Dark
Hours passed, and the silence of the forest began to weigh on them. Eran found himself straining to hear any sound, even the crunch of their footsteps. But there was nothing—only the oppressive quiet.
Then, faintly, he heard it.
A whisper.
He stopped in his tracks, his heart racing. "Did you hear that?"
Lyra turned, her expression wary. "Hear what?"
"Whispering," Eran said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It sounded like…" He trailed off as the sound came again, faint and indistinct, like voices carried on the wind.
Lyra's grip tightened on her blade. "Keep moving," she said. "Whatever it is, we don't want to give it a reason to notice us."
Eran nodded, his unease growing with each step. The whispers seemed to follow them, growing louder and more distinct. He could almost make out words, though they were in a language he didn't recognize.
"What are they saying?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Don't listen," Lyra said sharply. "It's the Rift's influence. It preys on your mind, twisting your thoughts. Focus on the path."
Eran tried, but the whispers grew insistent, each syllable burrowing into his thoughts. He clutched the Keystone, its light flaring brighter as if reacting to his distress.
The Rift's Echoes
The path suddenly widened into a clearing, and Lyra stopped abruptly. Eran nearly bumped into her before noticing what had caught her attention.
In the center of the clearing stood a massive stone archway, its surface etched with glowing runes. The air around it shimmered, as though the archway were a mirage.
"What is that?" Eran asked, unable to tear his eyes away.
"A Rift echo," Lyra said grimly. "A fragment of a time that no longer exists. We need to go around it—quickly."
Eran followed her lead, but as they circled the clearing, the whispers grew louder, almost deafening. He felt a strange pull toward the archway, as though an invisible force were urging him to step through it.
"Eran!" Lyra's voice cut through the noise, snapping him back to reality. She grabbed his arm, her grip firm. "Don't look at it. Don't think about it. Just keep moving."
He nodded, swallowing hard, and forced himself to focus on the path ahead.
An Unseen Threat
The clearing faded behind them, and the oppressive silence of the forest returned. Eran's nerves were frayed, every shadow and flicker of movement setting him on edge.
"Are we close to the other side?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Not yet," Lyra said. "But we're making good time. If we can—"
She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. Eran followed her gaze and felt his stomach drop.
A figure stood in the distance, barely visible through the trees. It was humanoid but unnaturally still, its outline shimmering like a heat mirage.
"Is that—" Eran began, but Lyra cut him off.
"Run."
She didn't wait for him to respond, taking off down the path. Eran sprinted after her, his heart pounding in his chest. Behind them, the figure moved, its movements fluid and disturbingly fast.
"What is it?" Eran shouted as they weaved through the trees.
"Shadowspawn," Lyra called back. "Creatures born from the Rift. They hunt anything that doesn't belong."
Eran risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. The figure was closer now, its form shifting and elongating with each step.
"Can we fight it?" he asked, his voice tinged with panic.
"Not unless you want to lose," Lyra said. "Just keep running!"
The path twisted and turned, but the Shadowspawn was relentless. Eran's lungs burned, his legs threatening to give out, but he pushed on, driven by sheer survival instinct.
Suddenly, Lyra veered off the path, leading them into a dense thicket. She crouched behind a massive tree, motioning for Eran to do the same.
"Stay quiet," she whispered, her breathing ragged.
Eran crouched beside her, clutching the Keystone tightly. The creature's distorted form appeared on the path, its head swiveling unnaturally as it searched for them.
Eran held his breath, his heart pounding in his ears. The Shadowspawn lingered for what felt like an eternity before finally moving on, its form melting into the darkness.
Lyra exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing. "It's gone. For now."
Eran slumped against the tree, his body trembling. "What… what was that thing?"
"An enforcer of the Rift's will," Lyra said grimly. "The council might control the Rift, but even they can't tame its creations. Shadowspawn exist to maintain the Rift's balance, and they don't care who gets in their way."
Eran swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "So the Rift has its own defenses? Great."
"It gets worse," Lyra said, her tone somber. "The closer we get to the council, the more of them we'll encounter. This was just the beginning."
Eran looked down at the Keystone in his hand, its light dim but steady. He had accepted its power, its burden, but the cost was becoming clearer with each passing moment.
"We'll make it," he said, more to himself than to Lyra. "We have to."
Lyra nodded, a faint smile crossing her lips. "We will. But we need to keep moving. The Deadwoods aren't safe, even when they're quiet."
As they resumed their journey, the whispers returned, fainter but still present. Eran steeled himself, determined not to let the forest's tricks shake him.
The Deadwoods were a place of secrets, shadows, and trials. And Eran knew they had only scratched the surface of its mysteries.