In a hunt for the enthusiast

We lie still now in awkward silence, surrounded by oppressive air after the unbinding from the Wraithwood. The whole of the forest went silent as if holding breath within our ears. The soldiers themselves were wordless, deathly pale and drawn tight upon their skin. Each and all bore the burden of what had just happened—and what soon would.

"We've got it wrong," Rykard finally said, cracking the silence.

"No," Lira said sharply, her sword still in hand. "We've made a choice. A hard one. Don't confuse the two."

Rykard opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, his shoulders slumping.

I knelt by the spot where the shard had once blazed with light. Now it was nothing but a dull fragment, cold and lifeless in the dirt. The power that had once coursed through it was gone, and with it, the faint hope it had represented.

"What happens now?" I asked, my voice quiet.

Lira's eyes set, her fingers grasping the hilt of her sword tightly. "Now we go hunting. The Wraithwood is free of this land, but so are we. If it believes it can continue to spread its decay unimpeded, it's sadly mistaken."

Her words carried a conviction I envied but did not erase the gnawing fear growing in my chest. Wraithwood was no longer a place; it was an endless force, unshackled, free to roam. How did we fight something everywhere yet nowhere at once?

As we left the clearing, the forest seemed. altered. The weight of Wraithwood's presence had been lifted but seemed to leave behind a barren, broken landscape. Trees stood dead, their bark gray and crumbling. Dry ground was cracked open, devoid now of that strange pulsing vitality that it held.

"We've killed it here," Lira said, her voice low. "This part of the Wraithwood is dead."

"Good," Rykard muttered. "Let it rot."

But even as he spoke, I couldn't shake the feeling that the lifelessness around us was only a temporary reprieve.

The soldiers moved in silence, their footsteps muffled by the brittle ground. We had survived the Wraithwood, but survival felt hollow. Each step forward was a reminder of what we had unleashed—and the growing shadow that loomed over the world.

That night, we camped at the edge of the forest, where twisted trees gave way to open plains. The air was colder here, the sky a canvas of stars that felt alien after days beneath the Wraithwood's suffocating canopy.

The soldiers sat in small groups, their faces lit by the flicker of campfires. No one spoke much. The victory we'd fought so hard for had soured into something we couldn't name.

Lira stood beside me at the edge of the camp, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

"You did well today," she said.

I barked out a bitter laugh. "We freed something that could destroy everything we've ever known. That doesn't feel like 'well.'"

She was silent for a moment. "Sometimes, there are no good choices. Only the ones you can live with."

"Can you live with this?"

Her eyes met mine and for the first time, I saw a flicker of doubt cross their depths. "I have to."

In the dead of night, I woke up by a sound—a low hum, barely audible above the crackle of campfires. At first, I thought it was the wind, but as I sat up, I realized that it was coming from the shard.

I sprang to my feet, drawing it from my pack. Its surface was faintly glowing, the light weak but steady.

"What is it?" Lira asked, suddenly beside me, her sword already in hand.

"I don't know," I said, my voice shaking.

The shard's light grew brighter, and the hum deepened into a voice—a single word, whispered in a language I didn't recognize.

Lira frowned. "Did you hear that?"

I nodded, my fingers closing tighter around the shard.

The voice came again, this time louder. The words themselves were incomprehensible, but the intent was clear.

"It's a warning," I said.

"Or a summons," Lira said, her voice grim.

Before either of us could answer, the shard flared bright, casting a beam of light that pierced the sky. The soldiers sprang to their feet, weapons at the ready.

"What's happening?" Rykard shouted, running toward us.

The light vanished as soon as it came, so the shard was dark again. But in its wake, the air felt charged, as if the world itself had shifted.

Lira looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Whatever we just woke up, it's not done with us."

At dawn, we broke camp and continued toward the plains, the shard carefully stowed in my pack. The land ahead was unfamiliar, its rolling hills shrouded in mist.

As we walked, the faint hum of the shard returned, a constant reminder that our journey was far from over.

The Wraithwood had spread its roots, and its shadow now stretched far beyond the forest's edge.

And somewhere, in the growing darkness, it was waiting for us.