The forest was quiet, but not peaceful. It felt as though the very trees were holding their breath, watching Isabella and the others as they prepared to move on. Shadows crept along the edges of the path, stretching like fingers as the dim morning light struggled to break through the thick canopy above.
Isabella tightened the straps on her pack, her fingers brushing the dagger at her waist. She felt uneasy, a gnawing tension in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't shake. Perhaps it was the aftermath of destroying the first Heartstone—or maybe it was the weight of what lay ahead.
"You're too quiet," Doran muttered, walking up beside her. He tried to sound casual, but she could hear the edge in his voice. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Isabella glanced at him. "Just thinking."
"About the next Hearthstone?"
"About everything," she admitted. "The forest… the whispers… us."
Doran sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's a lot. But hey, you blew up one creepy rock. That's more than most people can say."
"And yet, the curse is still here," she said quietly. "We're not done yet."
Before Doran could respond, Mara approached, bow in hand and her expression sharp. "We need to move," she said. "The golden-eyed one wants us to follow him further north. He thinks the next Hearthstone might be that way."
"North?" Doran raised an eyebrow. "I don't like the sound of that. North means colder. Colder means more miserable."
"Would you rather stay here and wait for the forest to swallow us whole?" Mara shot back, her tone impatient.
Doran grumbled something under his breath but didn't argue further.
Isabella followed Mara toward the golden-eyed man, who was crouched at the edge of the clearing, examining something on the ground. His face was unreadable, though his gaze seemed far away—as though he were seeing something no one else could.
"What is it?" Isabella asked, kneeling beside him.
He pointed to the dirt, where faint claw marks etched the surface. "We're not alone. The forest's guardians are restless."
"Guardians?" Mara frowned. "You mean the Warden… or more of those things?"
"Different ones," he replied, rising to his feet. "The curse twists everything it touches—creatures, trees, even the earth itself. As we move closer to the next Hearthstone, the forest will fight back harder. These claw marks… they're a warning."
Isabella stared at the marks, a chill crawling up her spine. The gashes in the dirt were deep and jagged like the ground had been raked by massive talons.
"If we keep heading north, we'll find what we're looking for," the man continued. "But it won't be easy. We'll need to stay sharp."
"When is anything ever easy with you?" Doran muttered, though his voice held no real malice.
The golden-eyed man ignored him and turned his gaze to Isabella. "You'll feel it again soon. The Heartstones call to those who are connected to them."
"I'm not sure that's comforting," Isabella replied softly, her fingers tightening around the strap of her pack.
He offered her a rare, faint smile. "It wasn't meant to be."
Through the Thorns
The group set off northward, leaving the clearing behind. The path quickly vanished, swallowed by the ever-thickening forest. The underbrush grew dense, forcing them to push through brambles and twisted roots that seemed to grab at their feet. The air grew colder the further they walked, and the forest grew darker, as though the light itself feared to enter this part of the woods.
"This is unnatural," Mara muttered, snapping a low-hanging branch out of her way. "It feels like the forest doesn't want us here."
"It doesn't," the golden-eyed man said. "The closer we get to the Heartstone, the more the curse will resist us."
Doran shivered and rubbed his arms. "Anyone else feeling that chill? Or is it just me?"
"It's not just you," Isabella said, glancing around warily. Her breath misted in the cold air. "It's getting worse."
Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the trees.
Isabella froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Mara immediately raised her bow, her eyes scanning the shadows. Doran reached for his axe, his earlier complaints forgotten as his body tensed.
"We're being watched," Mara whispered.
The growl came again—closer this time. Isabella turned her head slowly, her pulse pounding in her ears. Out of the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared, followed by another… and another. Shapes emerged from the underbrush—hulking, twisted creatures with matted fur and gnarled limbs. They moved on all fours, their mouths twisted into snarls that revealed rows of jagged teeth.
"What are those?" Doran hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Corrupted wolves," the golden-eyed man said grimly. "They serve as the forest's guardians. They will not let us pass."
"Then we'll have to make them," Mara said, nocking an arrow.
Before anyone could respond, the creatures lunged.
The Battle in the Shadows
The clearing erupted into chaos. Mara loosed an arrow, striking the nearest wolf in the chest, but it barely faltered. The creature snarled and charged at her, its claws raking the earth. She dodged to the side, losing another arrow as she moved.
Doran roared and swung his axe, meeting another wolf head-on. The blade bit deep, and the creature let out a strangled howl before collapsing. But more were coming—dozens of them, pouring out of the shadows like a living tide.
Isabella drew her dagger, her hands trembling. A wolf lunged at her, its teeth bared, and she barely managed to dodge in time. The creature's claws grazed her shoulder, sending pain lancing through her arm. She stumbled back, her breath ragged.
"Isabella!" the golden-eyed man called. He appeared at her side, his sword flashing in the dim light as he cut down the wolf that had attacked her.
"There are too many!" Doran shouted. "We can't fight them all!"
"We don't need to," the golden-eyed man said. "Isabella—the whispers. Do you hear them?"
Isabella blinked, her chest heaving. The whispers. They were faint, but they were there—a low hum beneath the chaos. She closed her eyes, reaching for them, even as fear clawed at her mind.
Come to me…
The voice was distant, but insistent, pulling at her like an invisible thread.
"The Hearthstone," she murmured. "It's close."
"Then lead the way!" the man urged.
Isabella opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto the darkness beyond the clearing. Ignoring the battle raging around her, she turned and ran.