The edge of the forest loomed over them like the maw of a beast. The moment the squad passed from the sunlit meadow into the gloom of the first trees, the world changed. The sound died; the cheerful morning birdsong was replaced by a thick, expectant silence. The air, once fresh, now smelled of damp earth, rotting leaves, and something else—a sour, underlying stench, like a sick man's breath.
Ari felt a chill that had nothing to do with the drop in temperature. He adjusted his robes, a ridiculously unsuitable garment for a trek through the woods. He walked in the center of the formation, just as Thalassa had ordered, with the captain herself on his right and the burly Sergeant Major Gideon on his left. The constant clinking of armor was the only sound breaking the unnatural silence.
"Stay close, priest," came Captain Valerius's condescending voice from the rear, loud enough for everyone to hear. "This isn't your church hall. We wouldn't want you to trip over a root and have the captain halt the entire company to rescue you."
Ari didn't even turn around. He answered with a calm smile in his voice. "Don't worry about me, Captain. I've survived your scornful glares all morning; I think I can handle a few roots. Besides, I'm sure the captain has better things to do than look after me… right, Captain?"
He threw the question directly at Thalassa, a playful challenge to put her at the center of the dispute.
Thalassa's reply was sharp, aimed at both of them without looking at either. "Both of you, focus. This is not a stroll. Valerius, watch the rear. Ari, watch the ground. Don't step on anything that looks… strange."
"Define 'strange,' please," Ari retorted. "To me, a man with such perfect hair on a mission in the woods is already quite strange."
Vespera, on the right flank, let out a chuckle she tried to disguise as a cough. "The priest has a point, Captain. It's suspiciously perfect."
"Sergeant Vespera, focus on your flank," Thalassa ordered, though Ari could see a minuscule twitch at the corner of her lips.
They pressed on. The silence grew more oppressive. Gideon walked with his hand on the pommel of his massive greatsword, his expert eyes scanning every shadow. The elf, Seraphine, moved with silent grace on the other flank, her head tilted as if listening to something the others couldn't hear.
"I don't like this silence," Vespera muttered to no one in particular. "Not even bugs. Where are the damned mosquitoes?"
"Perhaps even they have the good sense not to live in such a depressing place," Ari said. "Or maybe they found something tastier to bite."
Gideon grunted. "Something's scared off all the wildlife. Or eaten it."
"A brilliant observation, Sergeant Major," Valerius said from behind. "Your insight is astounding."
"And your sarcasm is as subtle as a kick in the teeth, Captain," Ari shot back without missing a beat. "Perhaps you should save it for the monsters. You might bore them to death."
"Silence!" Thalassa hissed, stopping suddenly. "Everyone. Still."
The squad froze. In the absolute silence, Ari strained his ears. He heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.
Thalassa pointed to a small clearing ahead. "Gideon, with me. The rest of you, cover the flanks. Slow and quiet."
They entered the clearing, and the sour stench intensified. In the center lay the carcass of an ox. There was no blood, no wounds from claws or fangs. The animal was whole, but… wrong. Its leathery, dry skin clung to its bones like old parchment. Its eyes, normally large and moist, were now dry, dusty sockets. It looked like an empty husk, an effigy of an ox.
"By the Flame…" Vespera whispered.
Gideon knelt beside the beast, his scarred face wrinkled in disgust. "This wasn't a wolf, or a bear," he growled, his voice a deep murmur. "Look at the skin. It's intact, but dry. As if all the moisture, all the life, was sucked out from the inside."
Valerius strode forward, pushing Gideon aside with an air of superiority. "It's necromantic magic. Clearly. A life-drain ritual. I've read about this in the capital's archives. The life energy is extracted to fuel a spell or a dark sorcerer. We must look for arcane symbols, sacrificial circles, remnants of black candles…"
While Valerius pontificated, Ari ignored him completely. He knelt on the other side of the ox, not looking at the animal, but at the ground around it.
"It's not necromancy," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Valerius stopped mid-speech. "What did you say, priest?"
Ari looked up, not at Valerius, but at Thalassa. "The grass," he said, showing her a handful. "It's not rotted. Necromancy leaves a corruption, a cold decay that stinks of the grave. This is different."
The grass in his hand was gray and brittle; it crumbled to dust between his fingers. "The life has been siphoned, not corrupted. It's like a large-scale parasite… or a disease of the land itself. Something is drinking this forest."
Thalassa stared at the grass dust in Ari's hand, then looked at Valerius with an icy expression. "The priest is right. The residual energy of necromancy is unmistakable—it's cold and palpable, like touching a corpse. This is… a void. An absence. It leaves no trace; it only takes."
Thalassa's public validation was like a slap in the face to Valerius. His face flushed with anger. "Captain, with all due respect, my training in the arcane arts is considerable. That of a village priest…"
"Your training led you to the wrong conclusion, Captain," Thalassa cut him off, her tone final. "And the priest's observation has given us a better lead. Stop looking for symbols. Look for patches of dead vegetation. Follow the blight. Those are our new orders."
She turned, the discussion over. The fury in Valerius's eyes was so intense Ari could almost feel the heat from it. Contempt was turning into pure hatred.
They resumed their march, the discovery of the ox weighing on everyone's spirits. The forest grew darker, the trees denser and more twisted. The ground was carpeted with gray leaves that turned to dust under their boots. They were following a trail of vegetative death.
"This is getting creepier," Vespera said in a tense whisper. "I feel like something's watching me."
"It's not your imagination," Seraphine replied from the other flank, her voice just as low. "There's something all through the woods. I can't see them, but I can feel them."
Suddenly, the elf froze and raised a hand, her body as taut as her bowstring. "Something's moving," she whispered, and this time, her voice held a note of urgency. "Ahead. A lot of them. And… they make no sound when they walk."
Ari moved closer to her. "Can you see them?"
Seraphine shook her head, her eyes fixed on the darkness. "No. They aren't visible in the normal way, but… I can feel them. They're like… holes in the forest. Little voids in the tapestry of life."
Valerius snorted with impatience. "For the Flame's sake, it's just shadows! Probably deer! Forward!"
Just as Valerius took a step, they all heard the first sound. It wasn't a roar or a growl. It was a wet, soft snap, like a green branch breaking. It was followed by another. And another. Then, a low, vibrant hum, which seemed to come from everywhere at once. It grew in intensity, making the air vibrate and Ari's teeth chatter.
And it was coming from all directions.
"To me!" Thalassa yelled, her sword hissing from its sheath. "Defensive formation! Now!"
They were surrounded.