The trembling of the Verdant Expanse subsided slowly, leaving only the mournful echo of the sky-beast's fading cry. The companions stood in wary silence at the river's edge, the dark plume in the distance twisting like smoke into the horizon.
"Something has awakened," Thalor rumbled, tightening the straps of his battered gauntlet. "And if the pattern holds, it will not let us pass untested."
But before Carlos could answer, a ripple stirred across the river's glowing surface. The reflections — once countless strangers — stilled, replaced by a single form.
A figure cloaked in woven vines and crystalline leaves emerged, not from the bank, but from the water itself. Its steps caused no splash. Its face was obscured by a hood of shifting light, but its voice — soft, layered like a chorus — carried across the grove.
"You walk uninvited, yet not unwelcome."
Lys had her bow drawn before the last word finished, her arrow pointed straight at the being's chest. "Name yourself."
The figure tilted its head, unbothered. "Names are transient. Call me what I am — a Keeper. I am one who remembers, one who watches."
A Living Memory
The Keeper stopped before them, lowering its hood. Its features were neither fully human nor beast. Its skin shimmered like bark flecked with starlight, and its eyes were pools of shifting silver.
Carlos tightened his grip on the Blade of Ascension, but something inside him urged caution. The figure radiated no malice — only a weight, as though it carried centuries of sorrow.
"The Verdant Expanse is alive," the Keeper continued. "But it is not whole. Shadows seep into its veins. What you saw in the sky, what you heard in the river… these are signs. The Heartwood bleeds."
Maren leaned forward, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "The great tree… it's the center of all this, isn't it? The Helm brought us here for that reason."
The Keeper nodded once, the motion deliberate and heavy. "The Heartwood is creation's pulse. When it falters, realms unravel. The Dominion you destroyed was but a symptom. But what festers now… is older. Hungrier."
Warnings and Prophecies
Thalor stepped forward, his voice grim. "Tell us what hunts here. What enemy hides in this beauty."
The Keeper's gaze lingered on him, unreadable. "You expect a name. An enemy. But what approaches cannot be named so simply. It is corruption — a hunger born of neglect and betrayal. It does not destroy with blades. It erodes. It whispers. It tempts."
Rina crossed her arms, daggers glinting at her hips. "So we fight a ghost that whispers. That's helpful."
The Keeper turned its silver eyes on her, and for a heartbeat, Rina flinched. In its gaze, she saw herself — not as she was, but as she might be: alone, her friends gone, her knives dripping with black blood.
"You fight shadows not just without," the Keeper said softly. "But within."
Rina's smirk faltered. She looked away.
A Gift and a Burden
The Keeper raised its hand, and the river rose like a curtain. From its shimmering flow, a small object emerged — a seed, glowing faintly with golden light.
"This," the Keeper said, placing it in Carlos's palm, "is a fragment of the Heartwood. Pure. Untouched. As long as you carry it, you will not lose yourselves to the whispers. But beware — it does not shield you from choice. It only reminds you who you are."
The seed pulsed faintly in Carlos's grip, warm and alive. His chest tightened as he thought of the visions he had seen — of blurred faces, of uncertain futures. He nodded once, solemn. "We'll protect it. And we'll reach the Heartwood."
The Keeper's silver eyes lingered on each of them in turn. "Perhaps you will. Or perhaps the Expanse will claim you, as it claimed so many before. Either way, your path is written into its roots now. You cannot turn back."
With that, the figure stepped backward into the river. Its body dissolved into light, merging with the flow until only ripples remained.
Uneasy Silence
For a long while, none of them spoke.
Finally, Maren broke the silence. "Did anyone else feel like they were being… read? Like every secret was dragged into the open?"
Rina gave a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah. And I didn't like it."
Thalor's expression was grim. "It spoke truth, whether we liked it or not. The question is — can we carry it without breaking?"
Carlos closed his fist around the glowing seed, feeling its steady warmth. He looked toward the horizon, where the dark plume continued to rise, staining the sky.
"The Keeper said the Heartwood bleeds. If we don't reach it…" He paused, the weight of unspoken doom settling over them. "Then this world falls. And maybe more than this world."
Lys finally lowered her bow, her gaze locked on the distant tree. "Then we walk. Before the corruption spreads further."
The Shadows Stir
As they resumed their journey, the grass no longer glowed as brightly beneath their feet. The crystalline leaves above no longer sang in harmony. And when Carlos glanced at the river one last time, he saw not faces — but shadows, writhing just beneath the surface, waiting for their moment.
The Keeper's warning echoed in his mind:Not just without. Within.
And for the first time since stepping into the Verdant Expanse, Carlos wondered if the real danger would come not from the corruption around them — but from the darkness festering inside each of them.