The first few days out of Oakhaven were a blur of aching feet and gnawing solitude. Kael walked west, following the faint lines on Eldrin's map, which promised a path towards the Prowling Peaks. The familiar, dusty roads of the trade routes soon gave way to narrower, overgrown tracks, then to no tracks at all. The world around him shifted, from open plains dotted with sparse trees to the dense, ancient embrace of what the merchants had called the Whispering Woods.
The air here was cooler, heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Sunlight struggled to pierce the canopy, leaving the forest floor in a perpetual twilight. The trees themselves were colossal, their gnarled branches reaching like skeletal fingers, draped in moss and ancient vines. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sounded amplified in the profound silence. It was a beautiful, yet unsettling place, far removed from the gentle, sun-drenched forests of Aethelgard.
Kael found himself talking aloud, a habit born of loneliness. He'd recount Eldrin's lessons, whisper promises to his mother, or simply murmur observations about the flora and fauna. His voice, small and vulnerable against the vastness of the woods, was a comfort. He ate the hardtack and dried meat he'd bought in Oakhaven, rationing carefully. Water was a constant concern, but he remembered Eldrin's simple purification spell – a faint, shimmering blue light passed over a puddle, rendering it safe to drink. It was a small magic, but it felt vital, a tangible connection to his mentor.
At night, he would find a secluded spot, usually at the base of a large tree, and build a small, smokeless fire, using a simple warmth spell to coax the embers to life. He'd wrap himself in his new cloak, the fabric rough but comforting, and stare into the dancing flames. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the chirping of unseen insects or the distant hoot of an owl. It was in these quiet moments that the memories of Aethelgard would return with crushing force. He'd see the black ash, feel the cold dread of the Shadow Lurkers, hear his mother's final plea. He'd clench his jaw, his hand instinctively going to the silver locket beneath his tunic. Malakor. The name was a bitter taste in his mouth, a driving force that pushed him onward.
He spent his days walking, his senses alert. He practiced his basic spells whenever he had a moment of peace. He'd try to mend a fallen leaf, focusing on the intricate veins, willing them to reconnect. He'd practice conjuring light, trying to make it brighter, more sustained. He was methodical, disciplined, pushing past the grief that threatened to consume him. He knew he couldn't rely on that raw, emerald-blue surge of power he'd experienced; it was too wild, too unpredictable. He needed control. He needed mastery of the fundamentals.
On the fifth day of his journey, the Whispering Woods began to change. The trees grew even denser, their branches intertwining so tightly that the forest floor became a perpetual gloom, even at midday. The air grew heavy, stagnant, carrying a faint, sickly sweet scent that Kael couldn't quite place. It reminded him vaguely of something decaying, but not in a natural way. This was something… unnatural.
He consulted his map. He was nearing a section marked "The Gloomfang Thicket," a place Eldrin's notes had warned was difficult to navigate and often held "lingering shadows." Kael braced himself. He tightened the straps of his pack and gripped his ash-wood staff more firmly.
As he ventured deeper, the silence became oppressive. Even the insects seemed to have vanished. The only sounds were his own footsteps and the frantic beating of his heart. The trees here were twisted, their bark scarred, and the ground was littered with strange, brittle fungi that glowed with a faint, sickly green light.
Suddenly, a rustle. Not the gentle rustle of leaves, but a dry, scuttling sound, like claws on bark. Kael froze, his senses on high alert. He peered into the gloom, his eyes straining. Nothing. He took another cautious step.
Scritch-scritch-scritch.
The sound came again, closer this time, from behind a thick, moss-covered tree trunk. Kael slowly raised his staff, a small, focused orb of light forming at its tip. The light, though small, cut through the oppressive gloom, illuminating the space before him.
And then he saw it.
It was a creature, no bigger than a large dog, but utterly grotesque. Its body was thin and wiry, covered in matted, dark fur that seemed to absorb the light. Its limbs were long and spindly, ending in razor-sharp claws that scraped against the bark. Its head was small, almost reptilian, with two large, black eyes that reflected no light, only a dull, malevolent gleam. A long, segmented tail twitched behind it, tipped with a barbed stinger.
It was a Skittering Shadow. Eldrin had mentioned them in passing, creatures of the forest that had been twisted and corrupted by stray, weak tendrils of dark magic. They weren't powerful, not like the Shadow Lurkers, but they were vicious, quick, and their sting could cause a debilitating paralysis.
The Skittering Shadow hissed, a sound like dry leaves being dragged across stone. It lunged, surprisingly fast, its claws extended.
Kael reacted instinctively. He didn't have time for complex spells. He remembered Eldrin's lesson on basic deflection. He held his staff out, focusing a burst of pure energy, not for attack, but for repulsion. A small, invisible force field shimmered into existence just before him.
The creature slammed into the barrier with a sickening thud. It bounced off, yelping, and landed awkwardly on its side. It scrambled back up, hissing louder, its black eyes fixed on Kael with renewed fury.
One down, how many more? Kael's heart pounded. He knew these creatures rarely hunted alone. He scanned the surrounding gloom.
Scritch-scritch-scritch.
More sounds, from multiple directions. Two more Skittering Shadows emerged from the shadows, their forms blending almost perfectly with the darkened undergrowth. They moved with predatory grace, circling him, their tails twitching.
Kael swallowed hard. Three of them. He could deflect one, maybe two, but they were fast. He needed a way to deter them, not just block them. He remembered Eldrin's lessons on elemental manipulation, specifically light and sound. These creatures, born of shadow, would likely be sensitive to light.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind. He closed his eyes for a split second, focusing on the energy within him, not the wild, emerald surge, but the controlled, steady flow he'd been practicing. He pictured a burst of pure, blinding light.
He opened his eyes and thrust his staff forward. "Lumen!" he commanded, the word a whisper, but imbued with his full intent.
From the tip of the ash-wood staff, a brilliant flash erupted. It wasn't a focused beam, but a sudden, intense burst of pure white light, like a miniature sun exploding in the gloom. It illuminated the entire clearing, momentarily banishing the oppressive shadows.
The Skittering Shadows shrieked. It wasn't a hiss this time, but a high-pitched, pain-filled wail. They recoiled violently, their black eyes instantly shrinking from the sudden brilliance. They stumbled backward, disoriented, rubbing their heads with their clawed forelimbs.
Kael didn't wait. The light spell had drained him slightly, but he had an opening. He remembered Eldrin's advice: When you have an advantage, press it. He focused again, this time on a simple energy push, similar to the deflection, but aimed to propel rather than just block.
He pointed his staff at the closest creature. "Ventus!" he murmured, a word Eldrin used for a basic wind gust, but Kael infused it with raw magical force. A concentrated burst of invisible energy slammed into the creature, sending it tumbling backward into a thicket of thorny bushes. It shrieked again, entangled.
The other two, still reeling from the light, tried to regain their footing. Kael moved quickly, pivoting and unleashing another, weaker burst of light, just enough to keep them disoriented. Then, with a grunt of effort, he channeled another energy push, sending the second creature sprawling. The third, seeing its companions incapacitated, hesitated. Its black eyes darted between Kael and its struggling kin. Fear, a primal instinct, seemed to override its corrupted nature. With another high-pitched shriek, it turned and scuttled back into the deeper shadows of the Gloomfang Thicket, vanishing from sight.
Kael stood panting, his chest heaving. The light at the tip of his staff flickered and died. He leaned against a tree, his legs trembling. He hadn't been graceful, or powerful, but he had done it. He had faced a challenge, and he had used his learned magic to overcome it.
He walked over to the two incapacitated creatures. They lay still, their bodies twitching faintly, their eyes still wide and disoriented from the light. He knew they would recover eventually. He didn't have the heart to kill them; they were just corrupted creatures, not truly evil like the Shadow Lurkers. He decided to leave them, hoping the light had taught them a lesson.
He checked his supplies. His waterskin was nearly empty. The fight had drained him, both physically and magically. He needed to find a stream, and quickly. He also needed to rest.
As he continued his cautious trek, the gloom of the Thicket seemed to lessen slightly. He found a small, trickling stream, its water clear despite the surrounding darkness. He purified it with a grateful whisper of a spell and drank deeply. The cool water revitalized him.
He found a small, hidden alcove beneath a tangle of roots, a perfect spot to rest. As he sat, munching on a piece of hardtack, he reflected on the encounter. It wasn't the emerald-blue power, the raw, untamed force that had saved him in Aethelgard. This was different. This was control. This was Eldrin's training, applied. He had used the basic spells, the ones he had practiced countless times, and they had worked. He had adapted. He had survived.
A quiet sense of accomplishment settled over him. It was a small victory, yes, but it was his. It proved that he wasn't entirely helpless. He had a foundation, a starting point. The path to mastering the Arcanum would be long, fraught with far greater dangers than a few Skittering Shadows, but he had taken the first step. He had tested his magic, and it hadn't failed him.
He pulled out his map again, tracing the path towards the Prowling Peaks. The next section looked even more treacherous, marked with symbols of jagged rocks and biting winds. He knew the challenges would only grow. Malakor's influence was insidious, seeping into every corner of the world. But now, Kael felt a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet confidence that had been missing since Aethelgard fell.
He was still just Kael, the young mage. But he was learning. He was growing. And he was moving forward, one determined step at a time, towards his destiny. The vow he'd made in Oakhaven still echoed in his heart, a promise forged in ash and burning with a fierce, unyielding light.
He would find the Arcanum. He would master his power. And he would make Malakor pay.