In its place, a reed and glass lantern hung from branches, glowing warm but contained. Darven approached, examining spiral carved at base. Recognition crossed his gaze. "Seen this symbol on temple relics," he murmured. Kaelis leaned over shoulder.
"Warning or welcome? What is it?" she whispered fearfully, as if mist might swallow words. Darven's mind spun with sigils and legends: endless spirals, rebirth, or curse. Purpose ever shifted, hidden under meaning layers. Lantern light cast spirals on faces, dancing like blinking eyes watching closely.
Their journey continued under grey light. They crossed vines and quagmires as Kaelis shared tribal tale fragments, gathered in riverside taverns and camps. "Say Lantern Bearer was once a woman, a chief who never died, only changed." Words came halting amid huge efforts as mud sucked onto the boots with a viscousness.
Darven nodded, alert to signs—broken branches, mud prints—like an expert tracker seeking safety threads. "If tales were true, we walk among legends. Gods forbid, become one..." he growled, disgust for place seeping words, soaking clothes, and skin clammy. Each broken branch warning, mud holding tracks not just theirs.
Dawn reached them to high ground. Swamp lay behind, valley unfolded ahead, infinite jungle shattered pale light. First rays, mists cleared, revealing island's true face: black stone cliffs rose as a protective wall against wild forest chaos. Rising sun bloodied the rocks red.
Darven entered a sole narrow path ahead. From overhead rock, eye with spiral pupil watched carved stone, alert. Kaelis tensed, recognizing it—seen the same symbol red-painted ruined walls ancient outpost days prior. Stone seemed pulse dawn light, eye living slowly.
Darven frowned, tracing the carving. "Ancient tribe or something else?" Kaelis pondered. "Perhaps all same story: light, spirals, eyes. Perhaps all warning." Continued cliff watching. Each sound sharpened: insects buzzing rhythm, birds murmuring, large thing parting distant undergrowth.
Scattered stones marked the path, engraved spirals, runes; some bloodstained dry, others fresh flowers adorned. Offerings or warnings, impossible to know. Contrast dried blood, vibrant blooms churned Kaelis's stomach as the path breathed of both life and death.
Kaelis bent, dusting stone. "These marks belong to no known clan. Wonder who..." phrase died as distant deep horn sounded, its echo crawling into the tree's skin. Sound vibrated bones, primitive call chilling blood instantly, announcing their presence, which was no more a secret.
As the air tensed around them, till no leaf dared move. Darven, Kaelis exchanged frantic glances. "They've seen us. We have a name now," Darven whispered, his face drained of fear. Their Steps slowed; senses sharpened as the jungle closed around them, humid and oppressive.
Vines clung to their boots as they periodically halted at intervals for invisible hunting calls, awaiting the next sign of life around them. Kaelis controlled her breath, forcing advance. Horn echo clawed on her nerves, beside her Darven jaw clenched in a hard line. They tracked branchesc and shadows, ready to leap at a slightest provocation.
"They know we're here," Kaelis whispered. "Why not attack yet?" Darven shook his head, voice low and bitter. "Hunt is never quick. First, they watch. They Wait for us to stumble. Then they choose the moment." Kaelis narrowed eyes towards the forest. "Let watch then. I am tired of fleeing amidst these eyes." Her hand brushed her hilt, testing her own resolve. Cold metal anchored itself, reminding her of her own strength.
Darven murmured: "Boldness is a sword or shackle. Here, both cut deep." She faintly smiled. " That unsettles you? This land defies war rules. No banners, crowns—just shadows dripping of truth and lies." He halted, and turning with an intensity that could silence insects.
"What truth seek you here, Kaelis?" his voice was sharp, shredding her facade. She held gaze unblinking. "Not yours. Nor Serenya's. Mine." Honesty hung dense, raw. Darven's eyes softened instantly yet his mouth remained tense.
"Pray your truth is not spilled. A wrong word will seal your tomb..." Before Kaelis could reply, overhead branches stirred with no wind blowing. Bird's song ceased. Silence fell again.
"Hear that?" Kaelis whispered, crouching. Darven nodded. "Every silence here means something to listen." He took the ground stone and tossed it gently ahead. It fell with a dull thud on the moss as the air vibrated, sound recoiling. "There," Kaelis gasped, pointing.
From foliage dangled small thread-tied objects—spiral-painted bones and ochre-covered feathers swayed in the air. Darven advanced slowly. "Markers. Someone traced paths here." He reached Kaelis and gripped her wrist as she reached out to it.
"Don't touch," Darwin warned. "It is a trap called curiosity." Her lips twisted humourlessly. "You are starting to sound like me. Paranoid." he tightened the grip. "Perhaps paranoia only survival in Tabore-Bane."
Then the voice rose behind—soft, nearing, tender, breath-close. "The Survivors... never name, not selves." Kaelis spun, sword half-drawn, as none were there. Voice seemed to come out of the branches and floating mist. Darven straightened.
"Show if test us." Low laugh rolled over around again—unlocatable. Kaelis growled defiantly. "Mocking the shadows! Want to kill: my sword is drawn. What else you want?" Silence regained; as the hangings feather and bones swayed in the windless air. Voice returned, this time slow and measured.
"We want to see... what truth the face bear." Darven gripped his weapon, his gaze wavered, seeking Kaelis's. She felt his eyes' weight, urging a reply. "Then look," she said coldly, taunting the unseen. "Look and learn and the fire shall follow." Forest laughed again, this time in genuine delight, as the sound faded slowly.
Silence returned expectant. "What if clans want us?" Kaelis asked in a thread voice. Darven bitterly smiled. "Then pretend you belong... till someone decides otherwise." Inside, doubt tore through her.
Why Lady Serenya chose this haunted land of legends and warnings to erect a dreamed citadel?
The forest swallowed Kaelis and Darven as they advanced inward; the dense foliage around them moved like a living entity. Rays of sun pierced the canopy, illuminating patches of phosphorescent moss clinging to twisted trunks. The air was impregnated with the stench of the swamp, a thick, sticky smell that clung to the skin like a second layer, reminding them with every breath that Tabore-Bane forgave no imprudence. A narrow path snaked between roots as thick as walls, their knobby, damp surfaces glistening with a thin film of sap that dripped slowly, like blood from an ancient wound. Darven felt again that they were not alone. A tingling ran down his nape, impossible to shake, a primal warning that raised the hairs on his arms and quickened his pulse.
At first, it was just a flash in his peripheral vision: a shadow slipping between the trees, fleeting as a whisper. Then he saw them clearly: figures clad in green and brown cloaks, faces hidden behind carved wooden masks etched with spirals that seemed to twist under the dappled light. They moved without making a sound, their presence more felt than seen, an invisible weight that made dry leaves crunch faintly under unseen feet. Kaelis's hand brushed the hilt of her dagger; her eyes scanned the surroundings with a mix of caution and curiosity; her irises dilated, capturing every nuance of shadow and light.