Dawn broke over the ruins, pale light filtering through mist-soaked trees. The fire had long since died, leaving the three of them stiff and weary, though none spoke of the night's horrors.
Edric tightened his armor straps, jaw set. "We move inland. The ruins are nothing but graves."
Elira bristled but said nothing, clutching her journal close. To her, the ruins were priceless, but Edric's point was undeniable—the Continent would not let them linger.
Ronan stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Deeper into the wolf's den, then. Let's hope the wolves aren't bigger than the ghosts."
The forest was stranger than the ruins. Trees stretched impossibly tall, their trunks spiraling as though twisted by unseen hands. Flowers pulsed with faint light, opening and closing as though breathing.
Elira's quill scratched furiously. "It's like essence rewrote their very biology… every plant, every sound." She plucked a glowing petal, tucking it carefully into her notes. "If this land changed flora, it must have changed people too."
Ronan scoffed. "You're hoping for friendly natives? I'll settle for ones that don't want to wear our skins."
Edric stayed silent, scanning the trail with narrowed eyes. The air was heavy, as if the forest itself watched.
By midday, they found it: a hunting ground. Spears tipped with blackened stone jutted from the earth, surrounding the remains of some enormous beast—its hide marked with essence-burn scars.
Edric knelt, running his fingers along the spear shafts. "Not driftwood. These were crafted here."
Before they could examine further, a sharp whistle split the air. Figures dropped from the trees like shadows.
Men and women, but not quite. Their skin bore faint patterns like the glyphs in the ruins, glowing softly beneath the surface. Their hair was braided with bones and feathers, their eyes sharp, predatory. They moved with animal grace, circling the trio with spears drawn.
Elira's breath caught. "Humans… but different. Altered by essence, just as I suspected…"
One of the natives barked a word none of them understood, gesturing with his spear. Another jabbed toward Edric's sword.
Ronan shifted, hand twitching toward his knife. "They want us disarmed."
Edric raised his chin, voice steady. "We don't lower our blades. Not unless we know their intent."
The standoff thickened. Spears glinted in the dim light, the air taut with the promise of blood.
Before violence could erupt, one of the natives stepped forward—a woman with markings glowing brighter than the others. Her eyes locked on Edric's, unflinching. She spoke a single word, slow and deliberate.
"Outsiders."
The syllables were rough but understandable, mangled through a thick accent.
Elira's eyes widened. She stepped forward cautiously, lowering her quill. "You… speak our tongue?"
The woman ignored her, still staring at Edric. Her gaze was sharp, as though weighing his soul. Then she pointed to the ruins behind them.
"Why disturb the dead?"
The question hung heavy in the mist.
Edric's mind raced. His instinct was to assert authority, to claim his right to explore in the name of his father's crown. But looking at the spears, the sharp eyes, the unity of their stance—he knew arrogance would spill blood.
He forced his voice calm, almost humble. "We seek only to survive. We mean no disrespect."
The woman's expression remained unreadable. Then, after a tense silence, she gestured sharply. Two hunters snatched Elira's journal, flipping through her pages of glyphs and sketches. Elira lunged forward in protest. "No! That's mine—"
A spear tip halted her a breath from her chest.
The leader's gaze flicked over the pages, then back to Edric. Her lips curled into something that was not quite a smile.
"You walk paths not meant for you," she said. "And that has a price."
She barked a command, and in an instant, the hunters melted back into the trees, vanishing with Elira's journal in hand.
The trio stood stunned in the clearing, the forest once again eerily quiet.
Elira trembled with rage and fear. "My research… everything I recorded—it's gone."
Ronan spat on the ground. "They let us live. For now. That's the price she was talking about."
Edric tightened his grip on his sword, staring into the mist where the natives had disappeared. For the first time since landing, he realized the truth—this Continent wasn't empty. It had people, and they were watching.
And they were not welcoming.