**Day One – The March Begins**
Dawn breaks cold and gray as our strike team assembles at Verdwood's northern gate. Ten of us, armed and prepared as we'll ever be for what's ahead.
The final roster:
- Me (magical support, bait, walking curse)
- Toren (warrior, barely recovered but stubborn)
- Captain Felric (team leader, void combat veteran)
- Kaela (frontline warrior, my shadow)
- Lysara (elven mage, tactical support)
- Elira (support specialist, void dampener tech)
- Nyssa (scout, former cult territory survivor)
- Seraphine (healer, magical anchor)
- Marcus and Thea (senior guards, experienced fighters)
The village gathers to see us off. Faces I've known my whole life watch with expressions mixing hope, fear, and something close to desperation. We're not just rescuing Miren—we're proving Verdwood won't be paralyzed by fear.
Elder Stoneheart approaches, his ancient face grave. "Bring her home. And return yourselves."
"We will," I promise, hoping it's not a lie.
Kaela stands close to my left, her practice sword replaced with real steel that looks too large in her seven-year-old hands. But her grip is confident, her stance ready. She catches me looking and offers a fierce grin.
"Stop worrying. We've got this."
"I hope so."
Lysara adjusts her robes on my right, checking her supplies with meticulous precision. She notices Kaela's proximity and shifts slightly closer herself, though her expression remains carefully neutral.
"Hydration and energy management will be critical during the march," she announces to no one in particular. "I've prepared herbal supplements to maintain optimal performance."
"You prepared supplements?" Kaela raises an eyebrow.
"For the entire team. Obviously. Tactical efficiency requires proper nutrition." But her gaze flicks to me briefly before looking away.
Elira appears, her pack bulging with devices and components. "Ready to march into certain doom?"
"That's the spirit," I mutter.
"Hey, optimism is overrated. Preparation and backup plans are what matter." She pats her pack. "I've got seven different void dampeners, three emergency flares, and something I'm calling a 'reality anchor' that might help if the corruption gets too thick."
"Might help?"
"Sixty percent confidence. That's pretty good for experimental tech." She grins. "Besides, worst case it explodes. Which would be exciting."
"Let's avoid exciting explosions."
"You're no fun."
Captain Felric's voice cuts through the morning air. "Strike team, form up! We march in five minutes!"
The reality of what we're about to do settles over everyone like a shroud. We're marching into cult territory. Into the heart of darkness. And not all of us are coming back.
Toren places his hand on my shoulder. "Stay close to the group. No heroics. We do this smart and careful."
"Yes, sir."
"I mean it, Ren. Your mother would never forgive me if I let you throw your life away."
"Then we'll both make sure that doesn't happen."
He nods, but worry doesn't leave his eyes.
**First Hours – The Forest Darkens**
We move in tight formation through familiar forest. For the first hour, everything looks normal—the trees Toren taught me to identify, the streams where I've gathered water, the paths I've walked a hundred times.
Then the wrongness begins.
It's subtle at first. Leaves slightly duller. Birdsong less frequent. The ley lines overhead flickering irregularly instead of pulsing with steady rhythm.
By the second hour, the changes are obvious. Gray-green foliage. Withered undergrowth. Air that smells faintly of rot and emptiness. We've entered the outer edge of the corrupted zone.
Nyssa, scouting ahead, raises her hand in warning. We freeze.
She gestures—cult marker ahead, left side. Captain Felric signals Marcus and Thea, who move forward with practiced silence. They return moments later, confirming what Nyssa spotted: a carved symbol on a tree trunk, void magic inscriptions marking territory.
"First marker," Felric says quietly. "We're officially in their territory now. Eyes sharp, voices low, weapons ready."
We continue more cautiously. The forest grows darker despite the sun being high overhead—something about the corruption absorbs light itself.
Kaela moves up beside me, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brush. "You doing okay?"
"Nervous."
"Good. Means you're paying attention." She keeps her voice low, her eyes scanning the shadows. "Just remember—you're not alone. I've got your back."
"I know."
Lysara appears on my other side, her staff glowing faintly with protective magic. "The corruption density is increasing. I estimate we'll reach dangerous concentration levels by tonight."
"Dangerous how?" I ask.
"Sustained exposure causes fatigue, disorientation, and in extreme cases, corruption of living tissue." She glances at me meaningfully. "Though you seem... less affected than the rest of us."
She's right. Everyone else shows signs of strain—slight pallor, heavier breathing, tension around the eyes. But I feel almost comfortable here, like the corruption recognizes the curse within me as kin.
That should terrify me more than it does.
"The curse likes it here," I admit quietly.
"That's concerning," Lysara states. "But potentially useful. If the corruption doesn't affect you as severely, you can operate more effectively in high-density zones."
"Tactically useful," Kaela mutters, her tone suggesting she's not thrilled about this particular advantage.
"Everything is tactical when lives are at stake." Lysara's response is sharp.
"Or you could just say you're worried about him."
"I'm worried about the entire team's effectiveness, which includes—" Lysara catches herself, realizing she's been baited. Her cheeks flush slightly. "Kaela Fireborn, you're insufferable."
"But honest." Kaela grins.
I suppress a smile as Lysara huffs and moves forward, muttering about "emotional inefficiency" and "tactical priorities."
**Afternoon – First Contact**
We're four hours into the march when Nyssa freezes, her hand shooting up in the emergency stop signal.
Everyone halts instantly, weapons drawn, senses alert.
Nyssa points ahead, then signals: corrupted beast, moving parallel to our path, hasn't detected us yet.
Through the trees, I catch glimpses of it—something that was once a bear, now twisted by void corruption. Its fur has blackened and fallen away in patches. Purple-black energy crackles along its spine. Its eyes glow with that sickly light I've learned to hate.
Felric signals: avoid engagement, move quietly past.
We shift trajectory, giving the creature wide berth. It's the smart play—every fight risks injury, noise, and attracting more attention.
But the corrupted bear's head suddenly snaps toward us.
It's detected something. Scent, sound, or magical signature—doesn't matter. What matters is the creature now charging directly at our formation with terrifying speed.
"Contact!" Felric shouts. "Formation delta! Ren, Lysara, magical support! Everyone else, contain and eliminate!"
The team moves with practiced coordination. Marcus and Thea intercept the bear's charge, their enchanted blades striking corrupted flesh. The beast roars, void energy spraying from its mouth.
Kaela darts in from the side, her sword finding gaps in its corrupted hide. She's fast, precise, applying everything Master Dren taught her.
But the bear is massive and strong. One swipe sends Thea flying into a tree with bone-jarring force. Marcus holds the line alone, his blade corroding where it touches corrupted blood.
I reach for a ley line—but here in corrupted territory, they're all tainted. Pulling on them means pulling on corruption itself.
The curse surges eagerly. *Use me. I can hurt it. We're stronger together.*
"No," I whisper. Not yet. Not unless there's no other choice.
Lysara's magic hits the bear from the other side—pure elven light magic that burns the corruption like acid. The creature howls, thrashing, its movements becoming more erratic.
Toren moves in with brutal efficiency, his enchanted blade finding the beast's throat. It collapses, dissolving into black ichor.
Silence falls. Everyone breathing hard, checking for injuries.
Thea groans, holding her ribs. "Definitely cracked something."
Seraphine is beside her immediately, healing magic flowing. "Two ribs fractured. Nothing vital damaged. You'll be sore but functional."
"Great," Thea mutters. "Just great."
Felric surveys the area. "That was louder than I'd like. We need to move before other corrupted beasts investigate. Fifteen-minute break for healing and regrouping, then we push hard for the next two hours."
We settle into defensive positions. I sit between Kaela and Lysara, both of whom position themselves close enough to react if something attacks me specifically.
"You didn't use magic," Kaela observes.
"The ley lines here are corrupted. Using them means touching void magic."
"Which you've done before."
"And which makes the curse stronger every time." I look at my hands, imagining I can see darkness beneath the skin. "I'm trying to save it for when we actually need it. For Mama."
Lysara produces a water flask and hands it to me. "Hydration. You're sweating despite the cold."
"Thanks."
"Tactical necessity. Dehydration impairs judgment." But she watches until I actually drink before nodding in satisfaction.
Kaela pulls out travel rations and breaks off half, offering it to me. "Eat. You barely touched breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"Don't care. Eat anyway." She pushes the food into my hand with the kind of stubborn care that's pure Kaela. "You're going to need strength for what's ahead."
I eat mechanically, tasting nothing. Both girls watch me with expressions of concern masked as practicality, and something warm blooms in my chest despite the cold and fear.
I'm not alone. Whatever happens, I'm not facing this alone.
**Evening – Camp in Shadow**
We make camp as darkness falls, though "camp" is generous. No fire—too visible. No tents—we sleep in shifts with weapons ready. Just a defensive circle in a small clearing, void dampeners positioned at cardinal points to provide minimal protection.
Elira activates her devices with quiet pride. "Reality anchors active. They create a small zone of stable space where void corruption can't penetrate as easily. Should make sleeping marginally less nightmarish."
"Marginally?" Marcus asks.
"I'm an inventor, not a miracle worker. But it's better than nothing."
The dampeners hum with soft energy, creating a bubble of almost-normal air in the corrupted forest. The difference is immediately noticeable—breathing becomes easier, the oppressive weight lifts slightly.
"Impressive work," Lysara admits. "The enchantment structure is quite elegant."
Elira beams. "Thanks! I based it on your family's ward designs, actually. Added some gnomish efficiency improvements."
"I noticed. The resonance amplification is particularly clever."
They fall into technical discussion, and I'm struck by how normal it feels. Two girls talking about magical engineering while we camp in hostile territory. Like we're not marching toward almost certain death.
Kaela settles beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. "You're thinking too loud again."
"Just worried."
"About your mom?"
"About everyone. What if this goes wrong? What if people get hurt because of me?"
"Then we'll deal with it together." She bumps my shoulder gently. "Stop trying to carry everything alone. That's what teams are for."
"I know, but—"
"No buts. We're here by choice. All of us. Because we care about you and your family, and because it's the right thing to do." She looks at me seriously, her amber eyes reflecting the faint glow of the dampeners. "You'd do the same for any of us."
"Of course I would."
"Then trust us to do it for you." She leans her head against my shoulder for just a moment before straightening. "Now get some rest. You're on second watch."
Seraphine approaches, her silver eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. "Ren, a word?"
I follow her to the edge of our defensive perimeter.
"How is the curse?" she asks quietly.
"Louder. Hungrier. It likes being in corrupted territory."
"I was afraid of that. Void corruption and vampiric curses both stem from similar magical principles—entropy, consumption, the unraveling of natural order. Being surrounded by corruption is like..." She searches for the right metaphor. "Like being surrounded by food when you're starving. The temptation intensifies."
"I can control it."
"For now. But we've only been in corrupted territory for half a day. By the time we reach Umbral Hollow, you'll have been immersed in void magic for three full days." Her expression is grave. "The curse will be screaming by then. And when you see your mother in danger, when the cultists threaten her... will you still be able to control it?"
I don't have an answer.
"I'm not trying to discourage you," she continues. "But you need to prepare mentally. Decide now, while you're calm and rational, what lines you won't cross. What you will and won't allow yourself to become. Because in the moment, with emotions high and the curse howling... those decisions become much harder."
"What if controlling it means Mama dies?"
"Then you make an impossible choice. But at least it will be *your* choice, made consciously, rather than the curse choosing for you." She places a hand on my shoulder. "I can't tell you what's right, Ren. Only you can decide that. But decide now, before we reach the point of no return."
She returns to camp, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the curse's whispers.
*She's right, you know,* it murmurs. *Three days of this, and I'll be so strong. Strong enough to save your mother. Strong enough to destroy anyone who threatens her. All you have to do is let me.*
"At what cost?"
*Does it matter? What good is your humanity if everyone you love is dead?*
The worst part is that it makes a terrible kind of sense.
**Night – The Watch**
I take second watch with Marcus, sitting in companionable silence as the corrupted forest whispers around us. The void dampeners create a bubble of relative safety, but beyond their range, things move in the darkness. Corrupted beasts hunting. Maybe cult scouts. Maybe worse.
"First time in deep corruption?" Marcus asks quietly.
"Yeah."
"It gets to you. Makes you feel things that aren't real. Whispers fears and doubts." He adjusts his grip on his sword. "The key is remembering who you are. What you're fighting for. Don't let the darkness redefine you."
"What if the darkness is already part of me?"
He looks at me, understanding in his weathered face. "Then you decide what that means. Darkness isn't inherently evil, kid. Shadow is just absence of light. What matters is what you do with it—whether you use it to hide monstrous things, or to provide cool shade on a hot day."
"That's... actually helpful."
"I'm occasionally wise." He grins. "Don't tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation."
Halfway through our watch, Lysara emerges from the sleeping area, moving quietly to where we sit.
"Can't sleep?" I ask.
"The corruption creates interference with elven meditation techniques. I thought I'd be more useful on watch." She settles nearby, her staff across her lap. "Also, statistically, attacks are most likely during second watch. Having additional magical support increases survival probability."
"Always tactical with you," Marcus observes, amused.
"Someone has to think logically." But her eyes linger on me slightly longer than necessary. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Worried. The usual."
"The curse?"
"Louder."
She nods, as if she expected that answer. "I've been researching curse management techniques. There are elven methods that might help—mental exercises to compartmentalize invasive thoughts, meditation forms specifically designed for containing parasitic magic."
"You researched that?"
"Of course. It's relevant to mission success." She looks away, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks visible even in the dim light. "And... it would be unfortunate if you were lost to corruption. You're a valuable... team member."
"Just a team member?"
Her blush deepens. "Obviously. What else would you be? It's not as if—I'm simply concerned with overall team effectiveness. That's all. Don't read anything into it."
Marcus coughs, unsuccessfully hiding a smile.
"I'm going to meditate now," Lysara announces stiffly. "To maintain optimal readiness. As one does."
She moves a few feet away, sitting with rigid posture, her staff glowing faintly as she begins elven meditation exercises.
But she's positioned herself where she can still watch me from the corner of her eye.
Marcus chuckles quietly. "That girl's got it bad."
"Got what bad?"
"You're six. You'll understand in a few years." He ruffles my hair. "Just know you've got people who care about you. More than you probably realize."
**Dawn – Day Two Begins**
We break camp before sunrise, eating cold rations and preparing for another day's march. Everyone's tired, strain showing in the set of shoulders and the tightness around eyes.
Thea's ribs are better—Seraphine's healing is impressive—but she still moves carefully. Toren's old wound aches in the corrupted atmosphere. Even Felric looks worn, though he hides it behind commander's discipline.
"Two more days," he announces as we prepare to move. "Two more days of this, and we reach Umbral Hollow. Stay sharp, stay together, stay alive. Understood?"
"Understood," we chorus.
We form up and march deeper into shadow.
The corruption intensifies with every mile. By midday, the forest looks like something from a nightmare—black twisted trees, ground cracked and barren, air thick with the smell of decay. The ley lines overhead are barely visible, choked by void magic.
And the curse within me grows stronger, feeding on the ambient corruption, whispering louder with each passing hour.
*Almost home,* it purrs. *Almost where we belong. Among the darkness. Among our true kin.*
"You're not my kin," I mutter.
Kaela glances at me, concerned. "You say something?"
"Just talking to myself."
"That's concerning."
"Everything about me is concerning lately."
She grabs my hand briefly, squeezing once before letting go. "Whatever happens, you're still you. Don't forget that."
The simple gesture helps more than she probably realizes.
We press on, deeper into void territory, closer to Umbral Hollow and the cult holding my mother captive.
Two more days.
I just have to hold myself together for two more days.
The curse laughs in the darkness of my mind.