The days following the creation of the silver vein settled into a tense, watchful rhythm. From the hidden sanctuary of the mangrove islet, Ren became a silent observer, a ghost in the mire. He split his time between two crucial tasks: meditating to strengthen his control over the blight-scar and meticulously studying his enemy.
The results of his gambit were slow, but undeniable. He would watch Kasai's pool for hours, and he could perceive the subtle shift. The water nearest the Great Turtle no longer seemed so stagnant and black; a deep, clear emerald was slowly pushing back against the gloom from the depths. Kasai itself moved more frequently. An ancient, mossy leg would stir, or its colossal head would lift from the water for a longer period, its breathing seeming less a struggle and more a deep, restful rhythm. The faint green aura of its own life force, once barely visible, now pulsed with a quiet, stubborn strength. The healing had taken root.
This slow revival did not go unnoticed. While the chanting of the Hollow remained constant, Ren, with his heightened senses, could detect a new note of frustration in their ritual. Their movements became sharper, their guttural chants harsher. They were pushing more energy into the growing Blight Heart, trying to overwhelm a resistance they couldn't see and didn't understand. The mire's life force, bolstered by the hidden spring of purity, was fighting back, and the Hollow were growing agitated.
It was on the third day of his watch that Ren noticed the anomaly. One of the robed figures, the same one who seemed to direct the others, broke from the ritual as twilight fell. While another took its place in the chanting circle, this leader glided to a secluded spot on the far side of their small island, shielded from the others by a cluster of dead, gnarled roots.
Driven by a Guardian's curiosity, Ren knew he had to investigate. Waiting until the mire was cloaked in the deepest darkness of pre-dawn, he slipped away from his islet. He moved with a practiced stealth, using his magic to create small, silent pockets of solid water to step on, his form shrouded by the ever-present mist. Shiro was a silent, alert presence on his shoulder, his senses a perfect extension of Ren's own.
He reached the edge of the Hollow's island and concealed himself in a thicket of brittle, grey reeds. From his position, he could just see the leader. The figure was kneeling, its hooded head bowed. It was holding a small, smooth object in its hands—a piece of obsidian so black it seemed to drink the faint, sickly light of the Blight Heart.
The Hollow was whispering to the stone.
Ren focused his senses, pushing past the drone of the ritual and the cold thrum of his scar. He tried to listen not with his ears, but with the blight-scar itself, using its resonance as a sort of antenna for the dark magic. He felt a faint, vile connection emanate from the stone, stretching out into the world beyond the mire. He could only catch fragments of the one-sided conversation, psychic echoes in the stream of dark energy.
"…the Heart-seed grows, as commanded…" the Hollow leader reported. "…but the Guardian-spirit… its vitality resists more strongly than the others. The decay of this place is… stubborn."
There was a pause, and Ren felt a wave of immense, commanding cold emanate from the stone—a response from the other side. He couldn't hear words, but he felt the pure, unadulterated intent: an icy displeasure, an impatient command.
The leader on the island bowed its head even lower. "Yes, my Lord. Forgive the delay. I will accelerate the process. The final vessel will be prepared. The Weald was a failure, but the Mire will be ready for the Great Unraveling. It will be done by the full moon."
The connection was severed. The robed figure stood, placed the obsidian stone back within its robes, and glided back to the ritual circle.
Ren remained frozen in the reeds, a chill far colder than the mire's water seeping into his heart. The information was a catastrophic revelation. This was not just a self-contained operation; it was one cell in a vast, organized network, reporting to a higher "Lord." And that Lord had just given a direct order: accelerate. The tentative deadline of the full moon was now a certainty.
His strategy of slow, subtle healing was no longer enough. The waiting game was over. The Hollow, pushed by their master, were about to do something drastic to break Kasai's will once and for all. Ren had to act, and he had to act now, before his enemy's new-found impatience doomed the Guardian of the Mire forever.