The icy touch yanked Raine back from the brink of oblivion.
He shot open his eyes, the fractured cave ceiling swirling in his vision, evoking a wave of nausea.
"Awake?"
Thalia's voice was right beside him, faintly weakened.
Raine tried to sit up, but his limbs felt as if filled with lead. A tearing pain tore at his chest with every breath, each inhalation scorching his nerves. Embers of the star‑light backlash still burned within him.
"Don't move," Thalia warned, pressing a cool hand to his shoulder. The chill seeped through his thin tunic, making him flinch.
"The sword…" Raine croaked, voice rough as gravel.
"It's done."
Karriion's heavy voice sounded, weary yet edged with excitement. The dwarf loomed over him, casting a deep shadow. In his hand gleamed a long blade.
The Starflame Blade—its dark red steel looked like molten lava frozen in place, the veins of power within it throbbing with ominous, latent force. No brilliant radiance burst forth; instead, the sword pulsed quietly, like the slow breathing of a dormant volcano.
Karriion extended it toward Raine. "Take it. It answers to your blood."
Raine reached out, trembling, and gripped the hilt. A strange warmth ran up his arm, colliding with the residual pain of his star‑light backlash. The blade's core thrummed as though awakening.
"Outside…" Thalia's eyes darted toward the cave mouth. "They're here."
The stench of corruption—a sticky, viscous rot—rolled in from the forest edge, growing denser. Drawn by the forging's raw power, something had approached… and above it all, a faint metallic hiss rode the wind.
The Church's hounds.
"We must go—now," Thalia urged urgently.
Karriion yanked Raine upright with a single heaving grip, brutal but steady. "Can you walk, lad?"
Raine ground his teeth and gave a barely perceptible nod. Dizziness still clouded him, but he forced his legs to hold. He glanced at Thalia—her face looked paler than ever, almost translucent in the firelight. Had she grown weaker?
"Move!" Thalia didn't pause. She bolted for the cave opening.
Raine and Karriion followed, the trio bursting forth into the forest's oppressive gloom. They dared not hesitate, dared not look back. Behind them lay the forge's lingering energy, the hungry stench of corruption, the relentless Church knights. Before them lay the cursed expanse known as …
The Blighted Wood.
An ancient boundary stone leaned crookedly at the forest's edge, half‑choked by black, writhing vines; the exposed stone bore lichen‑eaten runes—once warding, now only threatening.
Crossing beyond it felt like stepping into another realm.
The air became viscous and heavy. Each breath drew in dust‑laden miasma, sweet with rot and reeked of damp earth. Light struggled through the twisted canopy, casting fractured, twitching shadows on the slick, moss‑blanketed ground.
A deathly quiet prevailed—no birdsong, no insect chorus, not even the rustle of the wind. Yet that silence brimmed with countless faint whisperings: as if unseen lips murmured just beyond hearing, or a roaring heartbeat had been amplified within the confines of one's skull.
Raine's stomach churned. His Star‑blood felt like molten metal coursing in his veins, rebelling violently against the oppressive gloom around him. Each heartbeat bit like a razor's edge, agony flaring through his very soul. The spark of strength he'd reclaimed—already draining away once more.
"Steady," Thalia's low voice soothed him, lending a shred of composure.
She strode beside him, her hood hiding all but a pale jaw. Raine drew a ragged breath, wills away the pain. He knew this was only the beginning.
"Mind your footing." Karriion's gravelly warning cut the hush. The dwarf led the way, relying on his geomantic instincts and hard‑earned lore to pick the less treacherous path. His hammer‑haft swept the dim forest, eyes scanning for the slightest sign of danger.
He tapped an oily black moss at their feet. "Step on that, and it chews your flesh like wax."
He gestured to a brittle vine entwined with hook‑like spines. "Avoid that, too. It'll wrap round your bones and suck your marrow."
Raine dared only glance. This wood held death in every rustle: trees contorted into agonized forms, blisters of rot about to burst—thin carpets of leaves that oozed stinking ichor at a touch.
Thalia drifted like a wraith at the rear, senses keener than most. She paused now and then, tilting her head to catch hidden echoes or steadying a hand as she detected surges of twisted power.
"They're watching," she murmured softly, eyes flashing toward a dense thicket.
Karriion halted instantly, hammer gripped like a cudgel. Raine tightened his hold on the Starflame Blade; its pulse thrummed in resonance, as though bracing for combat.
"They're more than beasts," Thalia added, voice clipped. "They target you—'Blighted One.'"
Raine's chest clenched. He recalled the Church's slanders, branding him the catalyst of the corruption. He had heard rumors of knights dispatched to hunt him. But here?
A chill of dread slithered down his spine. They pressed deeper.
Suddenly a rasping, grinding chorus erupted from underbrush, and sleek black shapes hurtled out: wolves, but not as any living thing.
Corrupted Fangbeasts.
Each was the size of a dire wolf, skin sloughed away to reveal dripping black muscles and knobbled bone armor. Their eyes burned with a sick, green fire. Slime dripped from their maws, sizzling where it struck the forest floor.
Raines whole body snapped to attention. Karriion roared, charging at the nearest pack‑member with swung hammer—
CRASH!
Metal against bone, the beast exploded outward, brain matter spattering in a sickening bloom. But more poured in from the flanks, fanatics of hunger with single‑minded fury.
A flash in Raine's mind—prevision! He staggered back as razor claws slashed where his head had been.
"Watch yourself!" Karriion barked, parrying another strike. Raine swung the Starflame Blade; crimson steel bit through corrupted sinew, hissing with each cut. The beast recoiled, its black ichor bubbling where star‑light struck.
"Left!" Karriion's voice, urgent. Raine spun, sword meeting a snapping pounce. Their dance of steel and fang raged in the gloom.
Thalia's shadow magic wove around the periphery, binding and blinding savage jaws, but each assault drained her reserves—her limbs twitched under the strain.
Karriion's hammer roared again, clearing a path—but the hostile tide pressed on. Raine's blade cut arc after arc, but every strike cost him. Blood‑magic backlash stabbed his gut, and each breath had become a battle against pain.
"We can't hold!" Karriion bellowed between strikes. "Break out, now!"
"Follow me!" Thalia's calm resolve cut through the chaos. With a sweep of her arms, she unfurled a cloak of pure darkness. The wolves entering that void shrieked in confusion, their senses overwhelmed.
"Go—go!" she cried, seizing Raine's arm. Karriion covered their rear.
They sprinted through the shadow‑veil, the snarling beasts stranded on its edge. No longer heard was their pursuit, only the echo of a labored heartbeat.
Once the howls faded, the trio collapsed against a massive oak, trembling. Karriion gagged out curses, body spent. Raine doubled over, coughing, trying to steady star‑blood streaming from lacerations sustained in the fray.
Before them lay slick black puddles—the dissolved remains of their attackers. That was the cycle of this wretched land: consume, absorb, spread.
A grim impulse gripped Raine's chest: cleanse it with his star‑light.
He called on his dwindling magic; a pale glow pooled in his palm. He raised his hand to cast the seal…
A white‑hot lance of pain shot through his head, and visions of blasted stars, shrieking spirits, and the voice of Malcorus repeating, "Light will die; only void endures." … flickered and exploded in his mind.
He staggered back, clutching his temples. The glow collapsed.
"No … not here," he croaked.
Karriion caught him. "You all right?"
Raine shook his head, voice hollow: "Star‑light … repelled. We can't use it here."
Thalia watched him with a distant look. She had known this would happen. Her gaze drifted to the endless dark beyond.
Here, star‑light is poison.
This place is a cathedral of corruption, where even hope is damned.
And its whispers beckoned them deeper still.