The distant snap of a branch echoed through the mist like a warning. We froze, breaths held, listening. The forest was silent again—too silent. No bird calls. No rustle of leaves in the wind. Just the slow, creeping fog that wound around our legs like fingers trying to pull us down.
Elara's silver wards flared brighter in her palms, casting a soft glow that pushed back the shadows. Her voice was low, tense. "That wasn't an animal. Stay alert."
Lyra's amulet pulsed green, the light cutting through the haze like a blade. She moved closer to me, her usual grin gone, eyes scanning the trees. "Could be wisps. Or something worse. Keep moving—but quiet."
I gripped Celestite Fang tighter, the violet blade humming softly in my hand. The forest felt alive—watching, breathing. The trees loomed taller here, their bark twisted into shapes that looked almost like faces in the dim light. The path we'd followed from the academy gates had narrowed to a thread, overgrown with roots that tripped at our feet.
Elara's silver wards flickered in her palms, casting a soft glow that pushed back the mist. "Stay close. The mist is thickening."
Elara took the lead, stepping forward with careful, measured strides, her wards ready. I fell in right behind her, close enough to feel the heat from her mana. Lyra walked at my side, amulet glowing, her shoulder brushing mine in silent solidarity.
We pushed on, the mist rising higher, the darkness deepening. The unease grew with every step.
Lyra's amulet pulsed green, the light cutting through the haze like a blade. "This isn't normal. Even for Shadowveil. Something's off."
We'd been walking for less than an hour, but the sun—bright and blue when we left—had vanished completely. The canopy above was a tangled roof of branches, blocking out the sky. It was as if the forest had swallowed the day whole.
"Moonbloom herbs," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Where do we find them?"
Elara scanned the path ahead. "Clearings near water. They bloom under moonlight, but the roots are what the alchemist guild wants. Potent for restoratives. We should find a stream soon."
Lyra glanced back at me, her grin forced but reassuring. "Easy quest. In and out. As long as we don't get lost in this soup."
The mist was up to our waists now, swirling thicker with every step. It clung to my clothes, cold and damp, like invisible hands. The unease in my gut grew—not fear, not yet, but a subtle pressure, like the forest was pressing in, testing us.
"Is it usually this misty?" I asked, echoing my earlier question, but the words came out quieter this time.
Elara shook her head. "Not like this. Shadowveil feeds on mana. When the mist rises this fast, it means something's stirring the energy. Keep your mana ready."
We pushed on. The path twisted, the trees closing in. A low rustle sounded again—closer this time. Lyra's amulet flared brighter, and the sound faded.
"Probably just shadow hares," she muttered. "Harmless. Mostly."
Elara stopped suddenly, hand raised. "Water. Ahead."
We emerged into a small clearing—a shallow stream cutting through the mossy ground, the water black and still under the dim light. Moonbloom herbs grew along the banks—thin stalks with closed buds, waiting for night. Their roots were the prize, glowing faintly blue beneath the soil.
"Got it," Lyra said, kneeling to dig. "Let's make this quick."
I knelt beside her, pulling up roots carefully. The soil was cold, clinging to my fingers. Elara stood watch, silver threads ready in her hands.
We worked in silence for a while—the only sounds the soft splash of the stream and our breaths. The mist hung low over the water, like a veil.
Then the rustle came again—not distant. Close.
Lyra froze. "That wasn't a hare."
Elara's wards snapped into place—silver net around the clearing. "Stay inside."
Something moved in the mist—small, dark shapes darting between trees. Not watchers. Not claws. Just… creatures. Shadow wisps, maybe. Harmless, but they stung like nettles if they touched you.
One darted in. Lyra blasted it with green light—it shrieked, dissolved into smoke.
Another. Elara's threads wrapped it, crushed it.
I swung Celestite Fang at a third—violet blade slicing through, black ichor spraying.
They came in a small wave—five, six—but we handled them. No injuries. No real danger.
The mist cleared slightly after.
Lyra exhaled. "Not so easy after all."
Elara nodded. "Let's get the last roots and go."
We finished gathering. The bag was full—enough for the quest reward.
As we turned to leave, I spotted it—a hidden path behind the stream, overgrown with vines, leading deeper into the forest. A faint blue glow emanated from it, like mana leaking from a crack.
"Elara" I said, voice low. "Look."
She followed my gaze. Her wards dimmed for a second—as if the light itself recoiled.
"A path. Not on the map."
Lyra stepped closer, amulet flickering. "Could be nothing. Or everything. We check it?"
Elara didn't answer immediately. She stared at the narrow trail—the vines twisting like veins, the blue glow pulsing faintly, almost breathing. The mist seemed to part just enough to reveal it, then closed again like a trap snapping shut.
The silence stretched. Too long. Too heavy.
Lyra's voice dropped. "Elara?"
Elara's jaw tightened. She glanced back at the clearing, then forward into the dark. Her silver threads trembled in her palms—the first time I'd seen her magic waver.
"We could turn back now," she said, almost to herself. "It's late. The mist is rising. We come back tomorrow—Sunday—with more light, more runes, more time to prepare."
She paused. Her eyes flicked to the path again—the blue glow pulsing stronger now, as if it knew we were hesitating.
"Or…" Her voice lowered, barely audible over the soft rush of the stream. "We camp here. Right now. Push forward while the trail is still visible. But if something's waiting deeper in… we won't have time to retreat. No academy wards. No backup. Just us."
Lyra's hand tightened on her amulet. The green light dimmed for a heartbeat. "Camping means we're blind. No escape route. But going back now…" She looked at the path, the way the mist seemed to swallow it. "We might lose it. It could be gone by morning."
Elara's eyes met mine—searching, weighing, afraid. "What do you think, Eryndor?"
I swallowed. The air felt thick, pressing against my chest.
"I… don't know."
The words hung between us.
None of us moved.
The blue glow pulsed once more—stronger.
I felt the book in my ring pulse—faint, almost gentle, but insistent.
The forest watched.