In a hunt for the enthusiast

The mist thinned further as the shard's faint glow illuminated our path. The sense of foreboding remained, heavy and unrelenting, yet none of us dared speak of it. Words had power in the Wraithwood; we had learned that the hard way.

Stay close," Lira ordered, her voice slicing through the uneasy silence. She moved ahead, her sword drawn and her eyes sharp, each step purposeful. The soldiers followed behind her, their armor clinking softly, their faces grim. Rykard walked beside me, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his blade. The hum of the shard seemed to match the rhythm of our footsteps, a persistent reminder of our destination.

It crept up the plains, this tight passage, between gnarled trees whose branches were stripped bare, reaching out with skeletal fingers. And the mist, thinning off, seemed to cling with unnatural persistence to shadows: dance out just out of reach of our senses, and disappear. Now and again, a rustle of movement, a faint whisper: but nothing came from out of the darkness.

"This path feels wrong," Rykard muttered under his breath, his eyes darting to the shadows. "Too… deliberate. As if it's guiding us."

"It is," Lira said without turning. "The Wraithwood knows we're coming. It won't make this easy."

Has it ever?" I asked, although the question seemed pointless. The Wraithwood was famous for its perils; its history was one of blood and terror. Few returned who entered its depths, and of those who did, their lives were forever marked by the experience.

As we pressed on, the landscape began to shift. The gnarled trees grew thicker, their trunks twisted and blackened, their roots protruding from the ground like the limbs of some great, slumbering beast. The air grew colder, each breath misting before us, and the shard's glow seemed to wane, its pulse slower now.

We're getting close," I whispered, my voice barely audible. The hum of the shard had deepened, resonating through my chest like the tolling of a distant bell. It wasn't just a sound anymore; it was a presence, pulling us forward with an almost magnetic force.

We stepped out into an open space, and for one instant, the weight of the forest was lifted from us. At the heart of the clearing stood a stone archway, worn by time, its surface covered in runes that seemed to mirror those of the monolith. Vines crawled up its stone frame, pulsing with a sickly green light. Beyond the archway, the forest seemed darker, the shadows thicker, as if the very air beyond it was denser.

"The threshold," Lira said, stopping just shy of the archway. She turned to face us, her expression grave. "Once we cross this, there's no turning back. Whatever lies beyond… it's where the Wraithwood's power is strongest."

"What about the shard?" Rykard asked, glancing at the glowing crystal in my hand. "Will it still guide us?"

I hesitated, staring at the shard. Its light had dimmed, but its pull was undeniable. "I think so. But it's hard to say. The Wraithwood is… unpredictable."

Lira's gaze swept over the group. "We've come too far to hesitate now. Ready your weapons and stay vigilant. Whatever's waiting for us beyond this archway will not greet us kindly."

Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the archway and disappeared into the shadowed forest beyond. One by one, we followed, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. As soon as I crossed the threshold, a chill ran down my bones, and the shard's hum faltered, its pulse erratic.

The forest beyond the archway was unlike anything we had ever seen. The trees were enormous, their trunks impossibly wide and their branches forming a dense canopy that blocked out all light. The ground was covered in a thick, spongy moss that seemed to pulse faintly underfoot, and the air was filled with an almost deafening silence.

"Stay close," Lira repeated, her voice low but firm. Her eyes scanned the shadows, her grip on her sword tightening. "And keep your wits about you. This place is alive."

As if in answer to her words, the forest seemed to shift. Shadows grew darker, trees closer, and the faint whispers we had heard earlier returned, louder and more distinct. They were not words, but carried a sense of malice, a warning or threat.

We moved cautiously, every step deliberate, every sound under scrutiny. The shard pulsated before us, though its pulse was erratic, like a strained heartbeat. The path writhed ahead, pushing us deeper into the woods.

Not much later we came across our first barrier. A huge tree lay stretched across the path, trunk covered in the very same glowing runes we'd seen on the monolith and on the archway. The air felt charged, almost electric, and the hum of the shard grew louder, the light brighter.

"Another marker?" Rykard asked, stepping closer to take a closer look at the runes.

"Or a gate," I said, though the words felt uncertain. The shard's reaction had suggested significance, but what the purpose was remained unclear.

Lira stepped forward, her hand outstretched toward the runes. In the moment her fingers touched the surface, a blast of energy erupted from the tree, knocking her back. She landed hard, her sword skittering across the ground.

"Lira!" I dashed to her side, holding her upright. She winced, shaking her head to dispel the dizziness.

"I'm good," she said, but her voice was strained. "But that… that wasn't normal."

"It's a test," I told her, feeling the realisation sink in. "The shard… it is reacting to those runes. Maybe it's the way in."

Lira nodded and stepped back as I approached the fallen tree. I held the shard aloft and brought it close to the runes. As it drew near, the runes started to glow brighter, and their light matched the pulse of the shard. The hum grew louder, resonating through the forest, and the whispers around us turned into a cacophony of voices.

With a sudden flash of light, the tree disintegrated, the energy it contained dispersing into the air. The path ahead was clear, but the forest felt more oppressive than ever, as if it resented our progress.

"Move," Lira said, her tone sharp. "We're running out of time."

We moved forward, the shard's guidance taking us deeper into the forest. The land was treacherous, the air thicker, and the whispers louder. The presence we felt earlier returned, stronger and more defined, like a predator watching its prey.

We finally came to another clearing, and at its center stood a massive gate. Unlike the archway, this gate was solid, its surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and writhe under the shard's light. Two towering statues flanked it, their forms humanoid but twisted, their faces obscured by featureless masks.

The shard throbbed in my palm, and its light blindingly bright, now hummed at deafening decibel - a crescendo threatening to engulf me. I walked forward as the shard nudged me, raised it towards the gate, and it felt like the air shattering into glass around us.

The last thing I saw before the darkness engulfed us was the gate's surface splitting open, revealing a churning void beyond. Then, everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, we were no longer in the forest. We stood on a barren plain, the sky above us a swirling mass of storm clouds, and in the distance loomed the fortress from our vision. The Heart of the Wraithwood.

Lira's voice broke the silence. "We made it. But that is the least of all the battles now."

The shard's shine was faint now; its pulse went weak, almost exhausted. I put it away, glancing to the fortress instead. Spires pierced stormy sky, and with unnatural gleam, their obsidian walls shone within it. The air feels thick and heavy with energy, vibrating faintly off the earth beneath us in harmony.

"What now?" Rykard asked, his voice tinged with both awe and fear.

Lira's expression was resolute. "We finish this. One way or another."

And with that, we began our final march toward the Heart of the Wraithwood.