The Deadlands spat them out like chewed bone.
Squad 2 emerged from the scorched border, boots dragging, mana signatures flickering like dying stars. The terrain shifted abruptly as the squad was met with the ashen stone giving way to dense, emerald green overgrowth. The trees here weren't passive. They felt sentient. Their roots pulsed with ancient mana, their leaves shimmered with golden silk-like threads that whispered in languages no one had taught. It felt like the entire forest was alive. Aware of all that lived inside and those who had just entered.
The Emerald Abyss wasn't a forest. It was a scar of what happens when Xathia steps into worldly affairs, filled with grief.
Aylin shifted uneasily, her beastform flickering beneath her skin. Kael limped, feeling helpless, missing the blade he had sacrificed for preserving his life. Mugen walked in silence, still coming to terms with the fact he doesn't know himself.
Then Vayrik appeared.
He stepped from the treeline like he'd been waiting, his clothes still the same shade of silver and red as when he left. If he did experience battle, the team wouldn't know it.
"You guys look like hell," he said.
Tamura didn't respond.
Kael did, by collapsing.
---
Kael hit the ground hard, coughing blood. His skin was pale, veins darkening with scars that pulsed faintly. His body was experiencing mana sickness. It had spread slow, silent, and unforgiving.
Vayrik knelt beside him, fingers glowing faintly as he scanned the damage.
"He's burning from the inside," Vayrik muttered. "I take it you kids took on more than I expected."
Tamura crouched beside them, eyes locked on Kael's chest. The scars weren't random. They were old. Possibly Dryad-born. Possibly cursed. This wasn't just mana sickness, at least not anymore.
Aylin stepped forward, her tail flicking with agitation.
"We need to get him to the healers. Now."
Vayrik nodded, rising.
"The grove has an infirmary two clicks east. Aylin, take him. You're the only one strong enough to carry him without at the moment from the looks of you all."
She didn't argue.
She shifted into her beastform, muscles rippling, fur growing beyond her claws and feet, eyes glowing faintly. She lifted Kael with care, his body twitching in her arms.
Tamura watched her go.
Mugen didn't move. He just stared at the ground.
---
The grove infirmary wasn't a building. It was a living structure. The trees were woven into arches, vines pulsing with healing mana, roots shaped into beds. It felt as if once you stepped inside all of your problems were immediately taken away.
Two elder beastmen met Aylin at the entrance. One had antlers. The other had a mane braided with bone charms. They didn't speak. They just recognized her.
She laid Kael down gently, his breathing shallow.
One of the elders touched her shoulder.
"Place him on the roots," she said while taking another look at Aylin. "The forest remembers you."
Aylin blinked.
"I don't know what that means. Can you just help my friend?"
The elder smiled faintly.
"You will. In time."
She guided her to a tree etched with the language of the beastmen. She reached out, hesitant.
The bark pulsed beneath her fingers.
It welcomed her.
---
The grove was quiet.
Not peaceful, just watching.
Aylin carried Kael through the winding paths, his body limp, breath shallow. The mana sickness had spread. His veins pulsed dark, glyph scars etched into his skin like failed promises.
Tamura stood near the central clearing, arms crossed, waiting around for his squad to come back. Vayrik was beside him, waiting patiently with him.
Urdek approached.
The beastman leader was broad-shouldered, his fur braided with bone charms made from his fallen friends, his eyes sharp with painful memory. He didn't bow. Didn't greet.
"It was to my understanding that you had come with treaties and negotiations," he said. "But you carry the stench of Infernal filth with you and the brand of that rotten kingdom."
Vayrik stepped forward.
"We come with respect. The Queen of Xathia wishes to establish peace, trade, protection, and shared knowledge of the western world."
Urdek snorted.
"She wishes to own what she couldn't burn and hoping we will give a map to the next place to conquer on this side of the world."
Tamura's mark flared crimson.
Urdek's eyes flicked toward him.
"And you. You carry her fire. You must be the stick if we do not accept the carrot."
Tamura didn't respond.
Vayrik kept his tone measured.
> "We're not here to rewrite history. We're here to start."
Urdek's gaze lingered on Tamura. "Yet while I assume you believe that, I guarantee your queen is playing you all for fools.
Mugen wandered through the outer grove while his group stayed behind in the front. The trees here didn't sway, they listened. The air was thick with something not at all like mana, though Mugen couldn't sense it directly. He felt it in his bones. In the way his breath caught. In the way his instincts twitched.
Then she stepped from the trees.
A young woman. Zafira.
Rabbit ears twitching, eyes half-lidded, her aura unreadable. She wore no armor, no visible weapons. Her presence was quiet, but formidable. Like the grove itself bent slightly to accommodate her.
She didn't speak. She just gestured to Mugen. A single flick of her wrist.
Mugen hesitated.
"You want me to follow?"
She didn't answer.
She turned.
And walked deeper into the darkest parts of the grove.
Mugen followed, but his guard was still up.
---
The path narrowed quickly. The trees were closing in, vines thickening, light dimming. The air shifted. Not colder. Not darker. Just aware. Alive. More so than the rest of the grove
Mugen turned to glance behind him.
The path was gone.
No sigils. No incantations. No spoken command.
Just sealed.
Zafira kept walking, her steps light, deliberate.
Mugen's shadows twitched beneath him.
"What is this?"
She didn't respond.
He tried again.
"Where are we going?"
The vines struck.
Fast. Precise. A lash across his shoulder, a jolt of pain through his core.
His mana dropped instantly, almost like a siphon had been triggered.
He staggered.
Zafira didn't flinch.
She didn't look back, nor did she try to help.
---
Mugen gritted his teeth, breath heavy.
He took another step.
Too loud. The vines twitched.
Another strike, this time across his thigh. His mana flared, then collapsed. Veins darkened briefly before his shadows stabilized.
"This is insane..."
The grove responded.
Roots shifted. Vines lashed. His mana drained again.
He dropped to one knee, panting.
Zafira paused ahead, turning slightly.
Her expression didn't change.
But her eyes sharpened.
Mugen realized it then.
The grove wasn't reacting to movement.
It was reacting to speech.
To sound.
To intention.
The more he spoke, the more he resisted, the more it punished him.
Zafira hadn't said a word.
She didn't need to.
She understood the rules.
Mugen didn't.
Not yet anyway.
---
Mugen's breath slowed. He stopped speaking. Stopped questioning.
The grove responded less violently now, but still watching.
Zafira moved like mist. Her steps barely disturbed the moss. Mugen followed, limping, his mana flickering like a dying flame.
His shadows whispered. You're prey here. He ignored them.
But the grove didn't.
A branch snapped overhead—not from weight, but from intention. The trees were testing him. Not physically. Psychologically.
He felt it in his spine.
The grove wanted him to break. To lash out. To speak.
To fail.
Zafira paused again. Her head tilted slightly, rabbit ears twitching.
She was waiting.
Not for him to succeed. But to see what he'd do when he didn't.
---
They reached a clearing.
Circular. Silent. Surrounded by trees that leaned inward like judges.
Zafira stepped aside. And Mugen stood alone.
The grove pulsed.
And then it showed him.
Not illusions. Not magic. Just his memories.
Kael, coughing blood, veins darkening.
Tamura, screaming in the Deadlands while bleeding out.
Vayrik, dragging bodies.
Kaane's final breath.
Mugen's shadows flared in panic.
He staggered back.
"No..."
The grove struck.
A vine wrapped his throat. It was not to choke him, but to get him to be quiet.
His mana surged, then collapsed again.
He dropped to the ground, gasping.
Zafira watched.
Still silent. Still waiting.
---
Mugen lay there. Breathing heavy. Bleeding. Remembering his feeling of being helpless.
The grove didn't attack again.
It didn't need to. It had seen him. It had judged him. And it had decided.
Zafira stepped forward, finally speaking.
"You survived."
Mugen looked up, eyes hollow.
"Barely."
She knelt beside him, her voice low.
"That's all the grove requires."
She touched his chest, just above the heart.
His mana flickered, then stabilized.
But it didn't feel like healing.
"You're changed now," she said. "You'll feel it when you leave."
Mugen didn't respond.
He couldn't.
The grove had taken something.
And left something else.
He looked at her as she walked away. "Why did you do this? What is all of this?"
She didn't turn around. But she did reply. "Your soul called out to me for help."
"I'll see you tomorrow. Mugen."
He hadn't told her his name nor did he ever think to ask for hers.
---