The forest pressed close as they advanced, the air heavier here than on the shore. Roots coiled over the path like the spines of sleeping beasts, and now and then a pale petal drifted down from nowhere, settling on their shoulders without any breeze to carry it.
Skyling's low trill broke the hush — not alarm, but warning.Eliakim raised a hand for silence. "Hold," he murmured. His eyes narrowed toward the brush ahead, where the undergrowth shivered without wind.
A wet, clicking noise crept into the stillness. Then they appeared — four pale shapes, low to the ground, their limbs bending at unnatural angles as they skittered into view. Bulging eyes glimmered faintly; translucent skin pulsed with a sickly inner light.
Gideon's lip curled. "Ugly little things."
"Spread wide," Eliakim ordered, voice calm but taut. "Ezra, keep your distance. Caleb, high shots — they jump."
The Tadvores sprang almost in unison. Gideon was first to meet them, intercepting one mid-air and smashing it against a trunk in a splintering crack. Another bounded toward Ezra — she fumbled her staff, let out a startled cry — but her reflexive burst of arcane fire engulfed it, the thing shrieking as it curled in on itself.
Skyling dove, talons raking the back of a third, forcing it into the soil. Eliakim stepped in, dagger flashing between its neck plates in one precise motion. Caleb's bow twanged, his arrow driving through the last creature's eye in a perfect, clean shot.
Silence fell — brief and uneasy.The bodies twitched once… then sagged, their pale flesh collapsing into a blackish mulch that seeped into the ground.
Ezra's nose wrinkled. "That's… not how things rot."
Eliakim crouched by one, gloved fingers brushing the remains. The stench was oddly sweet, almost floral. He said nothing, but the tightening of his jaw spoke enough.
Skyling hopped to a low branch, scanning the shadows ahead. In his mind, Eliakim felt her whisper:The roots are drinking it.
They pressed on.
The forest seemed to change with each step. Trees loomed taller, their trunks strangled by thorny vines as thick as arms. Flowers the size of skulls hung limp from their coils, petals twitching faintly though the air was still.
And the deeper they went, the quieter it became. Not a single birdcall, not the rustle of small animals. Even their own footfalls seemed muffled by the damp earth, as if the island were listening.
Then, through a tangle of vines, they saw it — the mouth of a stone stairwell descending into shadow. Moss hung like wet drapery over its arch, and above it, carved into the stone, was a perfect relief of a flower in full bloom.
The moment Eliakim laid eyes on it, the Codex of Imreth whispered into his mind:The Yggdrasil is the key.
His hand went instinctively to his Bracelet of Kharuun's Storage , feeling the faint pulse of the leaf within. Around him, the others shifted uneasily, drawn by the quiet weight of the entrance.
"Something's been waiting for us here," Gideon muttered.
Eliakim stepped forward, eyes locked on the carving — and as the first drop of damp air rolled up from the darkness below, he knew that once they went in, Thornveil would not let them go unchanged.