The morning fog lay thick over the low hills, curling around the roots of ancient trees like fingers reaching for anything that moved. Sylvia adjusted the strap of her bow and squinted through the grey haze. Her Flame coiled lightly around her wrists, warm and steady, a quiet reminder that the power which had almost consumed her was now hers to command.
"It's been a long day," Kael muttered, stepping carefully over a root slick with swamp moisture. "And we still have hours to go before we reach Belladomas. I hope this witch is… cooperative."
Sylvia shot him a sidelong glance, lips tight. "Cooperative? You think anyone who can stop Anastasia's power is going to roll out a welcome mat?"
Kael smirked faintly, though his eyes scanned the shadows nervously. "Fair point. But witches like her… they're not fools. She'll test us first."
Tharion snorted, hooves sinking slightly into the soft, muddy path. "Testing us is one thing. I hope she doesn't decide to eat us first."
Lyrielle's wings fluttered irritably. "Please. You act like every witch is some horror story. Let's just hope she's alive, at least."
The group fell into a rhythm, boots and hooves splashing softly in the wet earth, their conversations punctuated by the occasional birdcall or creaking branch. Though only one day had passed since the Illithid's assault on their minds, the weight of the truth Sylvia had revealed to her allies still lingered. She noticed the subtle tension in their steps — each of them wary, yet trusting, still learning to reconcile the darkness they had glimpsed within her.
"So," Lyrielle ventured, breaking the quiet, "you've been through a lot lately. I mean, controlling the Flame… and everything else. Does it ever scare you?"
Sylvia shrugged, keeping her gaze fixed on the path ahead. "It did, at first. But I've learned control. And fear… I've learned to turn it into focus. You can't lead a fight if your own heart is trembling."
Kael glanced at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Good. You'll need that focus. Belladomas won't just hand us a spell. She'll demand proof that we can survive her tests — and survive each other under pressure."
Tharion grunted, shaking his massive head. "I don't care what she does to me. As long as we leave with a weapon against Anastasia, I'll take my chances."
Sylvia let out a short laugh, dry and humorless. "It's not just her we need to survive. It's the forest too." She gestured to the fog curling thick between the gnarled trees, tendrils like living things, shifting and pulsing. "Something's… watching us."
The group stiffened. Even Tharion's ears twitched nervously. Kael's hand rested lightly on his sword hilt. Lyrielle's wings fluttered closer, protective.
"I feel it too," Lyrielle admitted. "Something's… unnatural here."
For hours, they pressed on through the dense mist. The path became narrower, more twisted. Old ruins appeared intermittently: shattered stone walls, moss-covered statues, and carved obelisks with runes worn nearly smooth by centuries. Each relic whispered of long-forgotten magic, a history of power and corruption.
"Why do you think she lives so far off?" Lyrielle asked, her voice quiet as they passed a crumbling archway. "Why not closer to a town, or even other forests? Surely someone with her power could live anywhere."
Kael's eyes scanned the shadows. "Isolation is protection. Belladomas is clever. She hides from the world so she can control the world in her own way. If she's going to interfere in Anastasia's plans, she needs to be unseen, untouchable."
Sylvia considered this as they climbed a low ridge. Below, a valley stretched wide, its edges lined with twisted, blackened trees. Smoke curled faintly in the distance, but not from fire — something more subtle, unnatural. A shiver ran through her.
"She's close," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "I can feel her."
Tharion's hooves struck the ground harder. "Feel her? What is she, a spirit or something?"
"Something like that," Sylvia said. Her Flame flickered in response, warm against the chill fog. "She's old. Powerful. And… watchful. Not just of us, of the land itself."
Hours passed. The group moved silently at times, the tension growing. Finally, the forest thinned, revealing a small, secluded glade. At the center, half-hidden by hanging vines and thick mist, was a crooked hut — leaning, ancient, with smoke curling in strange, unnatural spirals from its chimney. The air around it shimmered faintly, like the forest itself was bending to protect it.
"Belladomas," Sylvia whispered. Her grip tightened on her bow. "There she is."
The group approached cautiously. Every instinct screamed caution. The path leading to the hut was lined with carved runes, glowing faintly, and small charms dangled from the trees, swinging gently despite the lack of wind.
Kael whispered, "Keep your wits. This isn't just a witch's house. This is her fortress. One wrong step…"
Tharion grunted. "One wrong step and she eats us."
Sylvia exhaled slowly. "Or she tests us. Either way, we move forward."
As they stepped onto the clearing, the door of the hut creaked open. A thin wisp of smoke escaped, carrying with it the scent of old herbs, burning wood, and something faintly metallic.
From the doorway, a figure appeared — old, bent, with hair white as ash and eyes sharp and bright, glittering with knowledge and danger. Belladomas, the witch of legend, regarded them silently, her gaze piercing through the mist like a blade.
"You've come far," she said, voice low and smooth, carrying weight and subtle menace. "And yet… you don't know what you seek… or if you can bear it."
Sylvia stepped forward, resolute. "We need a spell. Something that can stop Anastasia's power for a few moments — long enough for us to strike."
Belladomas studied her, lips twitching into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Do you understand what such power demands? You are asking for more than a tool. You are asking for a force that will test everything you are… and everything you fear."
Sylvia lifted her chin, eyes steady. "We're ready."
The witch's gaze lingered, sharp and knowing. "We shall see."
Belladomas led them inside her hut. Herbs and charms hung from the ceiling, some glowing faintly, others writhing like trapped spirits. The air smelled of damp earth and strong incense.
"You will each contribute your power," she explained, her voice calm but demanding. "All of it must flow together. Fear, hesitation, and doubt will ruin the spell."
Sylvia placed her hands on the ancient runes carved into the floor, letting the Flame flow through her — warm, controlled, steady. Kael and Tharion took their places, Lyrielle extending her wings slightly to channel energy. The atmosphere thickened, and the smoke around them pulsed as if alive.
"Focus," Belladomas instructed, voice slicing through the room. "This will only give you a few moments. Seconds matter, or you die!"
Sylvia felt the energy surge through her, the combined power of her allies blending with her own Flame. Shadows danced wildly along the crooked walls. The room shifted, alive with magic. Wind howled through the open windows, tugging at their cloaks. Sparks of raw energy arced between their hands.
A sudden shriek of resistance came from the very walls — the house seemed alive, reacting to the immense power, the air vibrating so thickly it was almost solid. Sylvia's Flame flared higher, licking the ceiling, casting shadows that danced like spirits.
"You are stronger than I anticipated," Belladomas murmured, almost a whisper, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "But strength alone will not control this. You must become the spell."
Sylvia's vision blurred, then sharpened. Every fear, every memory, every ounce of anger or shame was transmuted into energy she could wield. The orb at the center of the circle grew brighter, brighter… until it was almost unbearable to look at.
Then Belladomas spoke, soft but deadly serious: "It will only last moments. A few breaths of time, and Anastasia's power will resume. Use it wisely. Your strike… must be absolute."
Sylvia nodded, heart hammering. She felt the weight of responsibility, the burden of her past, and yet — a strange calm. The Flame around her arms shimmered like molten gold, her eyes glowing fully red-orange, and for the first time she felt invincible, not reckless, but ready.
The room fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the orb's energy, until Belladomas finally withdrew a step. "It is done. Go, and remember: a single misstep, a single hesitation, and everything you fought for dies."
Sylvia exhaled slowly, letting the Flame retreat to a controlled burn. She looked at her allies — Kael, Tharion, Lyrielle — and saw the mix of awe, fear, and trust reflected in their eyes. They had survived the test. They had gained the spell.
Outside, the fog had thickened. The forest seemed quieter, more watchful, as if it knew the balance had shifted. Sylvia's grip tightened on her bow. Phase one of their plan was complete, but she knew that the real fight — facing Anastasia — was still ahead.
Kael placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the residual heat of her Flame. "We've come this far," he said quietly. "And we're not turning back."
Sylvia nodded. "Not now. Not ever."
And together, the group stepped out of the eerie glade, ready to move toward the next stage of their rebellion against the Dark Elf who had taken her home.