The encounter with the blighted deer left a permanent mark on Ren. The grim reality of his mission had settled in, and a heavy cloak of caution now guided his every step. He moved with a heightened awareness, his eyes constantly scanning the landscape not for resources, but for the tell-tale signs of corruption. Each blackened leaf or unnaturally silent patch of woods sent a jolt of anxiety through him. The journey was no longer an adventure; it was a patrol through enemy territory.
Two evenings later, as dusk began to bleed purple and orange across the sky, Ren was preparing a small, smokeless fire in a rocky alcove near the river. Shiro was scouting the perimeter, a silent shadow gliding through the undergrowth. Ren had just managed to coax a flame to life when a twig snapped behind him.
He spun around, his body instantly tensed for a fight. A man emerged from the deepening shadows, stepping so quietly that the snapped twig must have been a deliberate announcement of his presence. He was of middle age, with a weathered face, a grizzled beard, and eyes that held the sharp, assessing gaze of a hunter. He was dressed in worn leathers and carried a longbow in one hand, an axe hanging from his belt.
"That's far enough, boy," the man said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He wasn't overtly hostile, but every line of his body was coiled with suspicion. His eyes flickered from Ren to the small camp, then narrowed as Shiro slithered back into the firelight and coiled around Ren's arm. "Traveling alone this far north is foolish. Traveling with a snake for a companion is just plain strange."
Ren's mind raced. The spirits had tested his wisdom against illusions; this was a test against reality. Revealing the truth was not an option. He kept his posture non-threatening and his voice even. "I mean no harm. I'm just on my way to my uncle's homestead, near the mountains."
The hunter grunted, not seeming to believe him but not dismissing him either. "There aren't many homesteads left up there. Most folks with any sense have moved south."
"I have nowhere else to go," Ren said simply, a statement that was truer than the man could know. He gestured towards the small fish roasting over the fire. "It's not much, but you're welcome to share it. The night is growing cold."
The offer seemed to disarm the hunter slightly. He studied Ren for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. "The name's Kael." He settled himself on the other side of the fire, placing his bow beside him but keeping his axe within easy reach. "A fire is better than none."
They ate in a tense silence, which Kael eventually broke. "The hunting is poor," he grumbled, more to himself than to Ren. "Game is skittish. What isn't skittish is… sick."
Ren's head snapped up. "Sick?"
Kael eyed him sharply. "You've seen it, then? The Shade-blight. Makes the beasts mad. They get what we call the 'fever-fire' in their eyes. They'll charge anything that moves. Poisoned things. Can't even eat the meat." He shuddered. "It poisons the land, too. Whole swathes of forest turning black and dead."
"I saw a patch of it, back down the river," Ren admitted cautiously. "And a deer."
"Count yourself lucky you're still breathing," Kael said grimly. "It's getting worse. Spreading faster than it was a season ago." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "And that's not the worst of it. A week ago, I was tracking an elk near the Weeping Gorge, about two days' walk from here. The blight is thick there, thicker than anywhere I've seen. And I saw them."
"Them?" Ren prompted, his heart beginning to pound.
"Men. Dressed in drab, grey robes with hoods that covered their faces. They weren't fighting the blight. They weren't fleeing it. They were… watching it. Tending to it, almost. Had strange tools, glass and metal things. When they saw me, they didn't call out. They just… stared. I've never felt a cold like the one that came from their gaze. I ran. I'm not ashamed to say it."
The information struck Ren like a physical blow. The spirits' warning, the Elder's words—it was all true. There was an intelligent, malevolent force behind the corruption.
The next morning, Kael prepared to depart, heading west away from the river. He paused and looked at Ren. "Your uncle's homestead. If you're smart, you'll cut east and go around the Weeping Gorge. It's a longer route, but it's safer. That place is cursed now, boy. Nothing good will come from going near it."
With a final nod, the hunter disappeared into the woods, leaving Ren alone with his thoughts. Kael's warning was sound, the advice of a seasoned survivor. The safe path was to go around. But the words of the spirits, and the duty of a Guardian, echoed louder in his soul. The blight was the enemy. These grey-robed men were its masters. His mission was not to seek safety, but to protect the world from this very threat.
He looked at Shiro, who watched him with knowing, intelligent eyes. The path to the Sanctuary lay past the gorge. And the path of a Guardian did not go around danger; it went straight through it.
With a newfound, steely resolve, Ren stamped out the last of his fire and turned his face north, towards the Weeping Gorge. His journey was no longer just about reaching a destination. It was now about confronting the darkness head-on.