The forest air thickened as Isabella and her companions pressed onward. What had once been ominous silence now seemed alive with whispers. Every rustling branch, every distant snap of a twig made the group glance warily into the depths of the trees.
"I swear this place wasn't so… alive before," Doran muttered, gripping his axe tightly.
Mara, walking beside him with her bow drawn, gave him a sideways glance. "It's not alive. It's just watching us. There's a difference."
"Not sure that makes me feel any better," he grumbled back.
Isabella listened but stayed quiet. Her mind was elsewhere, still replaying the old man's words. The shadow. The truth of what lies beneath.
The golden-eyed man walked ahead, silent and focused, as though following an unseen path. He had barely spoken since their strange encounter, but Isabella could tell he felt it, too—the shift in the air, the wrongness that seemed to grow stronger with each step.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Do you know where we're going?"
The golden-eyed man stopped and turned to face her. His expression was unreadable. "Not exactly. But I feel something… pulling us. The Hearthstone's presence hasn't faded. It's guiding us forward."
"Forward to what?" Mara asked sharply. "Another monster? Another trap? Maybe we're walking right into whatever curse the old man was talking about."
"Perhaps," he replied evenly, his gaze steady. "But there's no other path but forward. You all feel it, don't you?"
A heavy silence followed his words. Because he was right—they could feel it. Something invisible was drawing them deeper, like hands reaching from the earth to pull them toward a forgotten truth.
"I hate it when you're right," Doran muttered before starting forward again. "But let's get this over with."
The group continued, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. Shadows stretched across their path as the canopy above thickened, blocking out what little sunlight remained. The deeper they went, the more unnatural the forest became. Trees twisted into gnarled shapes, their branches clawing at the air. Moss covered the ground like decay, and the smell—thick and metallic—made Isabella's stomach turn.
"This place is wrong," Mara whispered, her voice barely audible. "I've seen a lot of forests in my life, but nothing like this."
Doran stopped and knelt by the ground. "Footprints," he said, his voice tense. He gestured to a set of tracks leading off the path.
Isabella peered closer and frowned. The tracks were strange, and misshapen. They looked human at first, but the edges were distorted like something heavy had dragged its feet through the mud.
"Those aren't normal tracks," she said.
"No," the golden-eyed man agreed. "They're not."
Doran stood quickly, wiping his hands on his tunic. "I don't like this. Whatever made those tracks… it's close. I can feel it."
"Then we keep moving," Mara said, her voice firm. "Standing here won't help us."
As they walked, Isabella's nerves prickled. The feeling of being watched had grown unbearable, as though a thousand unseen eyes followed their every move. And then—a sound.
A low, guttural growl echoed through the forest.
Everyone froze.
"Did you hear that?" Isabella whispered, her heart pounding.
Mara nodded, already drawing an arrow. "We're not alone."
The growl came again, louder this time, followed by the heavy sound of something moving through the underbrush. Isabella scanned the trees, her dagger trembling in her grip.
"Show yourself," Doran muttered, his axe raised.
As if in response, a figure stepped into view from the shadows. At first, Isabella thought it was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, but as it emerged, the truth became horrifyingly clear.
Its skin was gray and stretched too tightly over its bones. Its face was gaunt, its mouth twisted into a permanent snarl of jagged teeth. Black, empty eyes stared at them with a hunger that sent ice through Isabella's veins. The creature let out a rattling growl, its chest heaving with unnatural breaths.
"What in the gods…" Doran whispered.
Before anyone could react, the creature lunged.
"Move!" Mara shouted, releasing her arrow.
The arrow struck the creature's shoulder, but it didn't slow. It crashed into the group like a storm, its claws swiping at anything in reach. Isabella dove out of the way, her heart racing.
Doran met the creature head-on, swinging his axe with a roar. The blade bit into its side, but the creature barely flinched. It turned on him, its claws tearing through his armor and knocking him backward.
"Doran!" Isabella screamed.
Mara fired another arrow, this one striking the creature's leg, but again, it didn't stop. The golden-eyed man moved in then, his sword flashing as he cut a deep line across the creature's chest. This time, it let out a furious howl, stumbling back slightly.
Isabella's mind raced as she watched. Its skin—it was like stone. Arrows and blades barely touched it. Think. Think!
"Isabella!" Mara's voice broke through her panic. "The Heartstone! Try using it!"
The Hearthstone.
Isabella fumbled for the pouch at her waist and yanked it open. The stone pulsed faintly, as though responding to her touch. She didn't know what she was doing, but there was no time to think.
"Come on," she whispered desperately, holding the stone out.
The creature turned toward her, its empty eyes locking onto the stone. It let out a guttural snarl and began to move, each step thudding like a drumbeat.
Isabella gritted her teeth and focused. "Please," she whispered.
The Heartstone flared to life.
Light burst from her hands, blinding and brilliant. The creature shrieked, stumbling back as the light engulfed it. Its skin began to crack, dark lines spidering across its body. With a final, deafening howl, the creature shattered, its form disintegrating into ash that scattered on the wind.
Silence fell.
Isabella dropped to her knees, the stone cooling in her grip. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.
"Is it… gone?" Doran asked weakly, sitting up and clutching his bleeding side.
"It's gone," Mara confirmed, lowering her bow with shaking hands.
The golden-eyed man stepped forward and knelt beside Isabella. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable.
"The stone responded to you," he said softly. "It knows you."
Isabella looked up at him, her fingers still curled around the Heartstone.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
The golden-eyed man didn't answer. He simply looked at her—and in his gaze, she saw the same fear that now gripped her heart.
What am I becoming?
In the distance, the forest groaned, as though waking from a long, restless sleep.