The Ferocious One's body lay inert, a dark, smelly mass on the damp earth. The adrenaline of combat began to dissipate, leaving in its place a residual tremor in my hands and a feeling of exhaustion I hadn't noticed before. The reality of the outside world hit us harder than the creature's claws: there were no walls to protect us here, nor the familiar (if fading) security of Lumière. Every step was a risk, every shadow a potential enemy.
Maelle, true to her practical nature, leaned over the Feroz with a grimace. "Definitely... sticky," she murmured. Carefully, using a tool from her belt, she began to pry away fragments of the toughest areas of its hide and what appeared to be small, opaque crystals embedded near its glow points. "They might be useful for reinforcing equipment or as... components for basic alchemy, if Sciel can identify them," she explained, packing them into a thick cloth pouch.
Gustave remained vigilant, scanning the surroundings with Maelle's flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness. Lune, for her part, had already moved slightly, tracking possible directions from which the Ferocious might have come, or if it had been accompanied. "Lone trail," she reported after a moment, her voice barely a whisper. "But this... the air here feels different. Heavy."
Sciel, his intellectual fascination overcoming his apprehension, approached the body to observe it closely, taking quick notes in a small notebook. "Fascinating. The morphological distortions are more pronounced than the later texts suggested. This confirms that we are entering a zone of high influence of the Painter's Veil. Illusions and physical alterations will be more common."
"Illusions," I repeated quietly, the thought sending a shiver down my spine. How do you fight something that isn't real, or that can change its form without warning? My ability to sense the rhythm and intent of attacks was based on the opponent's physical reality. If reality itself became malleable, what good would my intuition do me? It was a concern I kept to myself for the time being.
Once Maelle had finished collecting what she could and Sciel had taken his notes, Gustave gave the order. "We won't stay. The scent of blood might attract others. Let's keep moving east."
We resumed our journey. The night felt colder, the wind more cutting. The landscape began to change subtly as we traveled deeper. The trees became more twisted, their gnarled branches reaching for the sky like claws. The vegetation seemed dull and unnatural in color, even in the dim moonlight. Here and there, we saw strange shapes in the distance, which, as we drew closer, turned out to be eroded rocks or clumps of bushes. But doubt persisted, an uneasy feeling that what we saw might not be what it really was.
"Sciel, is there any indication on your maps or texts about landmarks in this area?" Gustave asked, keeping a steady pace.
Sciel consulted his tome, turning the pages carefully. "References to this area are sparse and contradictory. Previous expeditions that reached this far often reported disorientation and difficulty charting a precise course. It seems that the geography itself can change, or at least appear to change, within the Veil."
"Perfect," Maelle murmured sarcastically. "Lost and hunted. Just what we wanted."
"We have to find a route," Lune chimed in. "Relying on our basic senses here can be dangerous. Natural or illusory traps could be anywhere."
We walked for what seemed like hours. The silence was occasionally broken by strange noises: whispers that seemed to come from nowhere, distant, hollow laughter, the sound of footsteps that never materialized into visible figures. It was mentally exhausting, always on guard against threats both real and imagined. My senses were hyper-alert, not just searching for the rhythm of an attacker, but trying to sense the 'truth' of the environment, a subtle vibration that distinguished reality from illusion. It was an extension of my skill, forced to adapt quickly.
Lune, however, seemed to have a deeper connection to the natural world, even this corrupted one. She paused often, examining the growth of unusual moss, the direction a plant was leaning, the texture of the ground. "There's... a current of energy flowing in one direction," she said once, pointing toward a clump of trees. "It's not the wind. It's... different. Perhaps by following this current we can find something. Or avoid it."
We decided to trust Lune's instinct. We deviated slightly, following that 'current' imperceptible to most of us. The terrain became more complicated. We had to climb a slippery slope (a possible platforming or physical skill challenge in the game), cross a small stream whose waters seemed to glow with a strange internal light, and navigate a dense thicket of thorny plants. During these moments, coordination was key. Gustave used his strength to clear larger obstacles, Maelle identified secure footholds, Sciel consulted his knowledge of strange botany, and my agility (linked to my movement intuition) helped me find the best path through the difficulty.
After what seemed like another eternity, Lune's 'current' carried us to an unexpected place. The forest opened up into a small gorge, hidden from view from a distance. And at the bottom of the gorge, half-covered by vegetation, we saw something we hadn't expected: a path. Not an animal trail, but a road paved with uneven stones, covered in moss and dirt, but undeniably built by hands (or something similar). Flanking the start of the path were the remains of what appeared to be two ancient statues, eroded almost beyond recognition, but in an architectural style that Sciel identified as predating the Fracture.
"A path," Maelle whispered, her voice full of wonder. "A forgotten path."
"This wasn't on any map," Sciel said, feverishly consulting his tome. "Legends spoke of 'veins' running through the lands beneath the Veil, but those were thought to be metaphors. Could this be one of those 'veins'?"
Gustave cautiously approached the beginning of the path, inspecting it. "It looks stable. And straight. It could lead us somewhere important. Or to a trap."
"It's a risk we have to take," I said, feeling a pang of hope. A path, even an old and overgrown one, was better than wandering aimlessly in this deceptive landscape. It was a direction, a purpose beyond simply "going east."
Lune knelt, examining the dust and leaves on the stones. "There are... fresh footprints," she said, her voice deep. "Not Feroz's. Of something... humanoid in shape. Multiple. And they're going in the same direction as the road."
The revelation strained the air again. We weren't alone on this forgotten path. Were they other travelers? Enemies? The failed expedition from other ages?
"We must be extremely careful," Gustave warned. "They could be dangerous. Or they could be... remnants of other expeditions." The idea of finding survivors of past missions, from erased ages, was grim, but it also offered the possibility of gaining crucial information.
We entered the gorge, treading with cautious reverence on the stones of the forgotten path. The vegetation closed in around us, the moonlight barely filtering through. The air felt different here, a little thicker, but with that strange 'current' Lune had detected seeming stronger, flowing along the path. It was as if the path itself was imbued with some kind of residual energy.