The path to the Heartwood stretched long and shimmering, but the wonder of the Verdant Expanse no longer felt untouched. The crystalline canopy dimmed. The emerald grass, once humming in gentle tones, now pulsed with uneven rhythms, like a heartbeat faltering.
And then the whispers began.
At first, they were faint, carried on the shifting colors of the sky. A stray thought here, a fleeting sound there. But soon, each companion realized the voice was not coming from outside at all.
It was speaking within them.
Carlos: The Weight of Leadership
Carlos felt it first.
"You cannot save them all."
The voice slid like oil through his mind, familiar yet alien. It was his own, but twisted, darker, echoing his doubts.
"Lys will fall. Thalor is too broken. Rina will betray you. Maren's power will consume her. You will stand alone. You always do."
He gritted his teeth, forcing his grip tighter around the Blade of Ascension. Its warmth flickered, as though struggling against the infection of his thoughts.
"I won't let them fall," he muttered aloud.
But the whisper laughed — soft, cruel. "You will choose who falls. That is the burden of a leader. And when you choose… you will never forgive yourself."
The words sank deep. And though Carlos forced himself to keep walking, every step felt heavier.
Lys: Fear of Failure
Beside him, Lys's stride faltered. Her bow hung loosely at her side.
The voice in her head was not cruel, not loud. It was her mother's voice, gentle yet disappointed.
"You never protected them. Not then. Not now. Every arrow flies true, but it is never enough. Your hands are steady, but your heart always wavers. When the moment comes, you will miss."
Lys swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She remembered the first raid on her village — her bow trembling in her young hands, the shot that missed, the fire that consumed everything.
Her vision blurred. For a moment, the companions walking ahead of her looked like shadows fleeing into smoke. She raised her bow, trying to steady her aim, but the arrow in her hand shook violently.
What if I fail them again?
Thalor: The Broken Oath
The knight trudged forward, his armor clattering with every strained step. His body still bore the toll of the Dominion, wounds that had not healed.
And the whisper came. Low. Male. Familiar.
"You abandoned us, Thalor. You watched your brothers fall while you stood, helpless. You swore to carry the shield for us — but the shield is broken. You are broken. When the Watcher struck, did you not secretly welcome it? The chance to rest? The chance to stop failing?"
Thalor clenched his jaw so tightly it ached. He remembered the screams of his order. The fire. The collapse. The weight of being the only one left standing.
"I fight still," he growled under his breath.
The voice chuckled. "You fight because you cannot forgive yourself. Not for us. Never for us."
His steps grew heavier. His shield arm twitched at his side, empty, phantom pain biting into him.
Rina: The Pull of Betrayal
Rina's daggers flashed idly as she twirled them, her eyes scanning the horizon — but her thoughts were consumed by the whisper that slithered like silk into her ears.
"They don't trust you. They never did. You're a shadow in their midst, a knife waiting for a back. Haven't you felt it? Their eyes when you speak, the hesitation before they follow you into battle? They tolerate you, Rina. Nothing more."
Her grip tightened on the hilt of her dagger. She remembered a dozen near-betrayals in her life, every partnership that ended with knives drawn, every supposed friend who vanished when the stakes grew high.
"You should leave them before they leave you. Take what power you can, and go. That seed Carlos carries? Yours for the taking. You deserve it more than he ever could."
Her steps faltered. For the briefest moment, she imagined it — cutting free of them, walking her own path, unbound.
And it tempted her.
Maren: The Fear of Herself
Maren's broken staff glowed faintly as she walked, her magic restless, unstable, swirling at the edges of her control.
And the whisper in her mind was her own voice, but sharper, crueler.
"You will destroy them. Just as you nearly destroyed yourself. Every surge of power brings you closer. Do you remember the look in their eyes when you lost control? They saw you as a monster. They still do."
Her breath quickened. She remembered the flames that had burst from her hands uncontrollably, the frost that had nearly frozen Rina in the Dominion.
"They will not wait for you to collapse. They will end you first. Perhaps even Carlos — yes, Carlos most of all. He sees you as a risk, not a friend."
Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled, gripping her staff tightly. Her chest ached, her breath ragged.
What if they're right?
The Fracture of the Group
One by one, they slowed. Their steps lost rhythm. The once-united stride faltered. The silence between them grew thick, heavy, suffocating.
Carlos glanced back, seeing Lys pale and trembling, Thalor dragging his steps, Rina staring too long at his side, Maren clutching her staff as though it were a lifeline.
The whispers weren't just weakening them. They were isolating them.
He stopped. "Enough!"
His voice cracked through the silence like a blade. The others froze, blinking as though waking from half-dreams.
Carlos raised the golden seed the Keeper had given him. It pulsed faintly, its warmth spreading outward in waves. The whispers recoiled for a heartbeat, their grip loosening.
But not broken.
The seed's glow flickered — fragile, fading. It would not last forever.
"We hold together," Carlos said, his voice steady but urgent. "No matter what you hear, no matter what you see, remember this: we're not alone. That's what the Dominion tried to break, and it failed. Don't let the whispers succeed where the Watcher couldn't."
Lys lowered her bow, her breath shaking.Thalor exhaled slowly, shoulders straightening.Rina slipped her daggers away, though her eyes still glimmered with unease.Maren wiped her tears, whispering, "I'm still here."
The seed pulsed once more, brighter this time, and the whispers retreated into the distance.
But none of them missed the truth — the corruption had left its mark. Seeds of doubt now lay buried deep in each of them.
And the Verdant Expanse, once beautiful, now seemed just a little darker.