Spears gleamed in the twilight as the native hunters surrounded the clearing. The spring's glow painted their skin in shifting blue, their markings pulsing with faint light. The leader—the same woman from the forest—stepped forward, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"You drink what is not yours. You draw from the veins of the land." Her voice was low, steady, carrying a weight of authority. "That is theft. That is trespass."
Edric didn't flinch. He stood tall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his voice calm but firm. "We needed water to survive. We took only what we required. No more."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Survival is no excuse. The spring chooses who may drink. Outsiders are not chosen."
Ronan gave a low chuckle, spinning his dagger so the essence-glow shimmered along its edge. "Funny. Looked like it let us drink just fine."
The hunters bristled at his mockery, spears raising higher. One barked something harsh in their tongue, but the leader silenced him with a gesture.
Elira stepped forward cautiously, palms open. "Please—we don't mean to defile anything. We only want to understand. If you'll let me, I can learn from this spring, from your ways. I—"
The leader cut her off with a sharp look. "Your people come with greed in their hearts. They always say 'to understand'—but what they seek is to take." Her voice hardened. "Knowledge is the sharpest theft of all."
Elira froze, words caught in her throat.
Edric's voice cut through the tension. "We've lost everything to reach these shores—ships, men, allies. If this land wants to test us, then let it. But we will not crawl away thirsty and broken." He drew his sword, its steel catching the spring's glow. "I will not."
The hunters' spears shifted in response, but the leader raised her hand again, halting them. She regarded Edric for a long, quiet moment, her expression unreadable.
Finally, she spoke. "Your pride blinds you, outsider. You do not yet understand what you hold." She gestured to the spring, its glow pulsing stronger, as if it felt her presence. "The veins of the land give life… but they also take it. You have seen this truth already."
Edric's jaw tightened, remembering the stag's twisted death. Still, he didn't lower his blade.
The woman's eyes lingered on him, weighing, measuring. "You will learn. All outsiders do. And when you do, it will be too late."
With that, she turned sharply. Her hunters melted back into the forest shadows as if they had never been there. Only her voice lingered, carried by the mist:
"The land does not forgive thieves. Remember that, before it remembers you."
Silence returned, heavy and suffocating. The spring gurgled quietly, its glow seeming dimmer after her departure.
Elira exhaled shakily, clutching her chest. "They knew. They knew about essence long before us. If they've lived with it all this time… they must understand things we can't even imagine."
Ronan slid his dagger back into its sheath, smirking. "All I heard is they don't like sharing."
Edric finally lowered his sword, but his voice was iron. "Let them glare and whisper in the shadows. We won't be turned away. This land is not theirs alone."
His words echoed in the clearing, defiant against the warning.
The three gathered their supplies and moved on, each carrying a different weight: Elira with the sting of mistrust, Ronan with amusement at the near-fight, and Edric with a growing fire in his chest.
The Continent had told them "no." But Edric Halvorn had never accepted "no" as an answer.