Karriion's heavy feet crushed the rotting leaves underfoot. Each lift of his boot felt like ripping it free from the mire, the clinging exhaustion weighing him down. Raine's body, lifeless as a sack of drenched sand, pressed upon his back. The swamp's stench, mingled with sweat and blood, nearly choked him.
He ground his teeth, the thick cords in his neck bulging. Damn swamps, damn tentacle beasts—and damn that reckless Raine, who always pushed himself to the brink.
Thalia moved a few paces ahead. Her steps remained swift, like a phantom woven into the forest shadows. Yet Karriion noticed a barely perceptible hesitation in each of her footfalls. Her silhouette dipped slightly, as if bearing an unseen burden. The price she paid in that fight had been no smaller than Raine's.
Around them, trees grew ever more grotesque. Bark cracked like charred skin; gnarled limbs resembled skeletal claws in their final struggles. The air reeked of rot, oppressive to every breath. They were in the forest's deepest corruption now—every inch of ground soaked in malice.
"Over here." Thalia's faint voice called from the edge of a clearing.
Karriion squinted and followed her outstretched hand. Before them stood an unimaginable giant tree. Its trunk would have required dozens to encircle, its canopy blotting out the sky like a vault of green. Remarkably, although ancient and weathered, this tree hadn't fully succumbed to corruption. Its deep-green leaves reached upward in defiance, its bark scarred but flowing with a singular, subtle vitality. Massive roots coiled and arched upward, crafting a natural cavernous entrance. Around that opening, the ground bore far less corruption than anywhere else nearby.
"An ancient tree…" Karriion panted. "This place… feels different." He sensed the ever-present oppression ease somewhat near its roots, as though an unseen shield held back the blackest evil.
Thalia nodded without a word. She stepped first into the root-formed hollow. Karriion adjusted the way he carried Raine, then followed. Each of the dwarf's heavy strides sounded a dull thud on firmer ground.
Inside, the hollow was damp yet dry—a surprising contradiction. The intertwined roots formed vaulted ceilings and walls. Slanting beams of light trickled through root gaps, casting mottled patterns on the earthen floor.
Karriion carefully placed Raine on a relatively even patch of ground, untying the ropes that bound his friend. With rough fingers, he checked Raine's pulse at the neck. It throbbed faintly but steadily. His breathing, though still labored, had become more regular. A flicker of relief crossed Karriion's furrowed brow.
Surveying their haven, the dwarf fetched flint and tinder—dry moss from his pack—and soon a small fire crackled to life in the cavern's center. Its orange glow pushed back some of the chill, bringing a fragile sense of safety. Karriion, kneeling by the flames, began inspecting his hammer and battered armor. The tentacle beasts had fiercely tested his gear; several plates bore ominous hairline cracks that would need reforging.
Meanwhile, Thalia approached the entrance. From her pouch she withdrew several black stone tiles engraved with intricate patterns. Gently, she pressed them into root crevices around the opening and the floor. As she whispered a few concise incantations, each tile flickered faintly before vanishing. In this way, she wove simple wards around the hollow. When finished, her frame visibly trembled—her color drained even further under the firelight.
Quietly she made her way back to Raine's side and sank to the ground beside him. She did not come too close, only watching over his slumbering face. The firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting emotions too deep to name. She sat, silent sentinel, confirming the fragile balance held.
A hush fell within the hollow, broken only by the fire's crackle and Raine's occasional murmurs. Karriion set aside his tools and turned toward Thalia. He studied the mysterious woman—her pale features, her instinctive care for Raine—and let questions well up in his mind.
"Tell me, witch," he rumbled in a rare tone of seriousness. Thalia's gaze left Raine and met his, calm and fathomless.
"When you used your power in the swamp," Karriion began, "it didn't resemble ordinary shadow magic." He recalled the all-consuming black vortex, the chilling authority that even the corruption recoiled from. "It felt more… ancient. More… elemental."
He paused, fixing Thalia with a sharp look. "And you've rescued this boy—risking everything—why?" Karriion's voice was grave. "Who are you hiding from us?"
Thalia lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze. In the lingering silence, the two shadows stretched on the root-woven walls.
After a moment she raised her head. "We share a common goal, do we not?" Her tone was soft but irrefutable. "To halt the corruption… and to find the way to the Fallen Star City."
She artfully skirted questions about her power and identity. "Right now, what matters most is restoring him." She nodded toward Raine. "Without him… none of us will leave this forest alive."
Karriion's frown deepened. He saw the secrets veiled behind her words. Yet looking at that pale face, the exhaustion and a flicker of sorrow in her eyes, he chose silence. He grunted, picked up his hammer, and began recharging its runes. The hollow grew still again—except for the unspoken doubts hanging in the air.
Time flowed quietly. Raine remained unconscious, tormented by the embers of starfire within. Occasionally he groaned in pain, his body convulsing. Cold sweat soaked his brow, darkening his hair.
Thalia sat vigilantly at his side. Whenever Raine's agony spiked, her fingertips twitched. Seizing the briefest opportunity—while Karriion tended to his hammer—she would slip a slender hand forward and let a whisper of energy trickle from her chest's hidden core. It was not shadow but a purer, gentler power, faintly luminous like starlight. Drawn from the secret star‑core fragment she bore, it seeped into Raine, soothing the rancorous blaze within him.
The relief it brought was slight but tangible: Raine's furrowed brow would ease; his ragged breaths would soften. Thalia stopped the flow the moment she sensed easing. Each gift left her paler, her breath shallower. Karriion glanced that way now and then, seeing only that Raine slept more deeply; he never realized the life‑draining vigil she kept.
Beneath the ancient tree's roots they found a fleeting respite. Outside, the forest's corruption still prowled unseen dangers. Yet here, in the dim glow of their fire, three weary travelers endured: a fallen heir of starlight, a solemn dwarf smith, and a shadow‑bound witch harboring buried truths—her sacrifices hidden in the hush of roots, lighting their fragile hope against an endless night.