"When one world fades, another awaits- not kinder, only newer."
The path was silent once again. It felt heavy and malevolent to Amara who was still very skeptical of her surroundings. Though its magic had thinned, the land still pulsed with the echo of sorcery, amd her insticts urged her caution. But how much faster could she possible flee? She was practically sprinting at this point with her feet already pounding the earth in a rhytym just short of flight. To add to her misery she couldn't even track her directions or destinations.
Amara decided to rush past the lichen covered stones and the elmwood's trail before sunrise could bask the pathway and make her more vulnerable and dehydrated.
The path however had more obstacles to offer. A creature stood behind a jagged outcrop of stone, with matted fur. It's bloodshot eyes startled Amara. With It's ribs jutted like knives behind the patchy fur, it limped forward as foam trailed from its mouth, a wild dog attacking out of desperation rather than courage.
It lunched.
She didn't flinch, in one fluid motion she stepped aside, her heart lurching, letting the beast's momentum carry it past. Her hands moved faster than her mind processed, and her dagger flashed. A yelp split the air. Then- all was quiet again. Only then did Amara take notice of what the creature was. It was a wild dog, a poor, hungry creature driven to madness by a lack of wilderness, probably caused by the lingering effect the forest still bore over the area.
A long, weary sigh escaped her legs . There was no respite. No reprive. While the enchantement's hold on her mind was loosening, it also also made her wounds more painful, her skin scathe, the lack of water more apparent to her throat and her exhaustion more unbearable.
But she knew she had to carry on.
So she walked, pushing through the pain with quiet resolve. The sun's first light filtered through the trees in ribbons of gold bringing warmth- only to her it also meant a race against time. She had to cover as much distance as she could before inevitably, her legs would give way. Also whatever lays ahead on this cursed pathway would not let her rest anyways.
Without looking back, she treaded on. She couldn't let any guilt set her back. Not right now. No. she had duties. Towards those of her town, those she and the Tantravighāktaks were fighting against while she actually got trapped. She had to go back, see if they were okay, or how many of them were even left at this point. How did the forest even consume so much of their lands still puzzled her. Was it actually enlarging? Because that would indicate it had a bigger power reigning over it. And for now, she did not seem to want to ponder over the implications that would conjure if it were true. Lost in her thoughts, she almost walked past something, or rather someone, she wasnt sure of anything anymore. It was the edge of her vision that witnessed what seemed like a shadow placed unnaturally against the dappled light, that made her falter mid-step.
A figure stood beside a jagged outcrop of stone, cloaked in indigo, utterly still. They had watched her struggle, unseen until now. She tensed, but they made no move toward her, or no move at all.
Cloaked in shadow and the hush of twilight, the figure bore no torch, no weapon, no name. But as she approached, the tension in her spine began to ease. Their presence was strange—but not malevolent.
"You are far from the hearth," the figure said at last, voice low and melodic, like the creaking of old trees in winter. "And this land does not forget trespass."
"I mean no harm," Aradhya replied. "I only wish to pass."
"Nothing passes without price."
She stood her ground. "Then name it."
The wind paused.
The figure stepped closer and raised a gloved hand—not in threat, but in invitation.
"Come. This path frays into peril the longer you linger. The woods may have loosened their grip, but their hunger remains."
Amara wasn't too trusting of this strange entity she just encountered. She had realised at this point that even the non magical had reasons to harm and this man did not seem entirely prosaic to her.
Reluctantly, she took the offered hand. It was warm—surprisingly warm—and steady.
He then her down a narrow hidden trail, beneath pale trees and past whispering grass, until they reached a clearing bordered by glimmering ferns and an ancient stone. Magic pulsed faintly here—old, watchful, and distant from malice.
"You're safe now," the figure said. "The forest and its enchantments cannot access these land ahead of the boundary. Not unless invited."
Amara's body sagged in relief.
"Who are you?"
They pulled back their hood.
"My name is Eirion," he said, eyes full of unknowable age and skies never seen by mortals. "I guard the borders between what was and what will be."
She stared, uncertain. "Will you come with me? The road ahead is long. And I'm still not—"
"No," Eirion said gently. "Your path is your own. I walk where maps fail, and you, I suppose, walk where memory must return", Eirion said, almost suspiciously.
"However",he continued, "you must first understand the nature of what you intend to defeat, and for that you need guidance. That and you must rest before you go further. You need to survive. Therefore, if you see it fit, come with me for now."
"Where?"
"Aethermoor"
"Where is it?"
"Not too far from here. We should make it by afternoon. Not many survive the forest. Those who do know how it pulsates and devours everything. They must know how to protect others too. Come if you wish."
Before she could speak, she was offered a small pendant—a shimmer of dusk-bound silver strung on woven thread.
"For when the way narrows, and you forget your name, and you will despite your resolve," he murmured. "It won't protect you. But it may remind you of what you've survived."
She took it with a nod. No more words.
And so Amara turned once more toward the road—toward home, distant and strange, waiting across hills and sorrow.
The forest was behind her. The horizon ahead.
And her name still belonged to her.