The descent from the Great Forge was quieter than the climb, but the silence was deceptive. Kaelen's arm felt strangely light now that the amber glow of the Lexicon had dimmed to a dull, faded scar. The tether was no longer a chain; it was a choice.
"The air down here is thick," Vane's voice vibrated in Kaelen's skull. The Shard-Wolf trotted through the knee-deep snow, his obsidian fur clicking with every rhythmic step. "It smells of damp earth and rot. We are leaving the Warden's graveyard and entering someone else's pantry."
"The Whispering Woods," Kaelen muttered, pulling his cloak tighter. "It's the only way to reach the Iron Spires before the winter storms lock the pass. If we want to trade the Warden's scrap for supplies, we have to move fast."
"Ooh, shiny-man, look!" Pip, the Flicker-Wisp, zapped from Kaelen's shoulder to a nearby frozen branch. He pulsed a frantic, neon blue. "Trees have faces! Why do the trees have faces? Can I eat them?"
Kaelen glanced at the gnarled trunks. They didn't have faces—not exactly—but the way the bark swirled resembled screaming mouths. "Don't eat the trees, Pip. And stay close. The woods are a haven for Hive-Stalkers."
From the shadows behind them, a low, wet sound echoed. Lyra, the Sky-Siren, drifted between the trees, her pale, leathery wings folded tight against her slender frame. She didn't speak often, her mind still a fractured mess of the Warden's torture, but her presence was a constant, haunting hum.
"Something... watches," Lyra hissed, her thought-voice sounding like wind through a flute. "Many eyes. Small eyes. They are hungry, Binder."
Kaelen stopped. He closed his eyes, reaching out with the faded Lexicon. Even without the magical force of the brand, the mental pathways remained. He felt Vane's predatory focus, Pip's erratic curiosity, and Lyra's lingering trauma. But beneath those familiar notes, he felt a rhythmic, buzzing hunger.
"Rend," Kaelen called out.
The ground beneath his boots shifted. The Burrow-Drake didn't surface, but a muffled rumble came from the soil. "Rocks are hard here. Too many roots. Rend wants to go back to the sand."
"Just stay beneath us," Kaelen commanded. "If the ground shakes, you bite whatever isn't me."
The ambush happened with terrifying precision.
From the canopy above, three Hive-Stalkers dropped. They were insectoid horrors, the size of horses, with iridescent carapaces and scythe-like forelimbs that shimmered with a paralytic toxin. They didn't scream; they chattered, a sound like dry sticks snapping.
"Vane, nine o'clock! Pip, strobe the canopy!"
Vane reacted before Kaelen finished the sentence. The Shard-Wolf lunged, his body becoming a blur of black glass. He slammed into the first Stalker, his obsidian fur vibrating at a frequency that shattered the creature's outer shell on impact.
"Brittle!" Vane growled, tearing a serrated limb from the Stalker's torso.
Above them, Pip exploded into a frantic sequence of white and gold flashes. The light reflected off the Stalkers' multi-faceted eyes, sending them into a blind frenzy. They slashed at the air, their coordination shattered.
"Lyra, the high note! Now!"
The Sky-Siren spiraled upward. She opened her needle-filled mouth, and a sound erupted that wasn't meant for human ears. It was a localized sonic pulse, a physical weight that slammed the remaining Stalkers into the dirt. Their carapaces cracked under the atmospheric pressure of the song.
But the forest had more to give.
From the dense thicket emerged a man. He wore armor made of Hive-Stalker shells, and on his brow sat a jagged, glowing purple Lexicon—a corrupted mark. Behind him stood a Goliath-Ape, a towering beast of matted fur and boney protrusions, its eyes milky and vacant.
"A Warden's scout," Kaelen spat, his hand going to the hilt of a knife he hoped he wouldn't have to use.
"The Warden is dead," the scout laughed, his voice raspy. "Which means his collection is up for grabs. I'll take the wolf. The wisp looks like a good snack for my Ape."
"He called me a snack?" Pip's light turned a dangerous, boiling red. "Shiny-man, can I pop his eyes? Please?"
"Go ahead, Pip," Kaelen said, his voice cold. "Vane, take the Ape's legs. Rend, the scout is yours."
The Goliath-Ape roared, a sound that shook the snow from the trees, and charged. It was a wall of muscle and rage. Vane met it head-on, weaving through the Ape's massive fists. Every time the Ape swung, Vane left behind a trail of obsidian needles embedded in the beast's flesh.
"Big and slow," Vane taunted in Kaelen's mind. "Like a mountain that forgot how to stand."
Meanwhile, the scout raised a crossbow, but before he could fire, the ground erupted. Rend burst from the earth like a prehistoric shark, his massive spade-claws locking around the scout's waist.
"Wait!" the scout shrieked, but Rend didn't listen to humans. He only listened to the one who promised him heart-blood.
"Tastes like metal and fear," Rend grumbled, dragging the man back into the dark of the burrow.
The Goliath-Ape, seeing its master gone, faltered. Its movements became sluggish as the toxins from Vane's needles began to circulate. Lyra descended like a ghost, her wings snapping open to create a vacuum that pulled the air from the Ape's lungs.
Kaelen walked up to the struggling beast. He could see the brand on its neck—a jagged, cruel mark that leaked black ichor. This wasn't a bond; it was a lobotomy.
"Pip, finish the distraction," Kaelen ordered.
Pip flew directly into the Ape's ear, emitting a low-frequency hum that acted as a localized anesthetic. The beast slumped to the ground, its breathing slowing.
Kaelen placed his hand on the Ape's forehead. The Lexicon on his arm flared one last time, a faint amber spark. He felt the Ape's mind—a shattered landscape of pain and forced commands. He didn't try to bind it. He reached for the "knot" of the corrupted Lexicon and, with a mental surge, snapped it.
The Ape shivered. Its eyes cleared for a brief second, looking at Kaelen not with rage, but with a profound, exhausted gratitude. Then, it went still.
"You gave it peace," Lyra whispered, landing softly beside him.
"I gave it the only thing I could," Kaelen said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Vane approached, his fur stained with green Stalker blood. "The woods are waking up, Ink-Skin. More are coming. The scout's death-shriek was loud."
Kaelen looked toward the horizon, where the Iron Spires poked through the clouds like needles. "Then we keep moving. We have a pack to feed and a world to wake up."
As they disappeared into the shadows of the Whispering Woods, the only sound left was the faint, rhythmic clicking of obsidian fur and the playful trill of a wisp who was still very much hoping for a snack.