The forest whispered. Not with wind, but with voices. The branches above tangled so thick that twilight swallowed the path, and every rustle in the underbrush sounded too deliberate.
"Whispering Forest," Lyra muttered, her steps soft and sharp as a predator's. "Spirits dwell here. Some are… territorial."
"Great. Haunted woods," I said, keeping my voice light. "Ten out of ten, would recommend for vacation spots."
I tapped into Appraisal, scanning the gnarled trunk nearest me.
[Spiritwood – Rare. Highly conductive for magical energy. Uses: staffs, enchanted cores, amplifiers. Warning: excessive harvesting provokes guardians.]
My heart skipped. "Jackpot."
Lyra's ears twitched back, glare sharp enough to cut bark. "Do not say that word here."
I crouched, tracing the bark's grooves. "Lyra, do you know what this is? This is basically the Tesla of trees. Eco-friendly, renewable—"
Her hand went to her hip. "One sliver. That's all. The guardians do not forgive greed."
"Understood," I said solemnly. Then, while she checked ahead, I discreetly tucked a second piece into my waist bag. "For backup," I whispered.
The air grew heavier as we walked deeper. Cold breath slid across the nape of my neck, whispers brushing the edge of hearing. Shapes moved in the corner of my vision—branches bending when no wind stirred them.
Appraisal pinged again: glowing mushrooms, resin thrumming with mana, roots pulsing faintly beneath the soil. I couldn't help it—my grin stretched wider with each discovery.
"You look like a child in a candy shop," Lyra sighed.
"Correction: an inventor in a magical hardware store," I whispered back, hugging my bag.
That night, we set camp with fire crackling low. Lyra stayed on edge, dagger close, eyes darting to every shadow. I busied myself with a Spiritwood shard, scratching diagrams in the dirt for how to weave it into a voltage stabilizer.
Then the fire flickered. The temperature plummeted. The whispers turned into words.
"Thieves."
The trees around us groaned. From the ground, roots tore free, twisting into humanoid forms with bark for skin and glowing green eyes. More rose behind them—sentinels of the forest, faces carved into wooden snarls.
Lyra was already on her feet, blades drawn, voice tight. "You woke the guardians."
I clutched my half-finished diagram, paling. "Technically you said I could take one sliver!"
She shot me a look that promised murder later. "Run after we survive this."
The guardians stepped closer, the earth rumbling beneath their march. And for once, even I didn't have a joke ready.
To be continued…