The afternoon breeze caressed my skin gently, carrying with it the mingled scent of damp earth and dry leaves. I set my quill down beside my journal, its pages filled with messy sketches of flora and ancient script. My gaze drifted toward the dense forest ahead. The Whispering Woods... This place was my entire world—a living library whispering ancient tales through the wind and vines.
I had always believed that this forest was more than just trees and undergrowth. It was history—a sanctuary for life unseen and unacknowledged by those in the capital. And perhaps, it was also a reservoir of dormant natural magic. I had spent weeks in this small cabin, attempting to decipher the secrets hidden within these woods.
Today, I had just returned from documenting a newly discovered species of bioluminescent moss and had marked the location of a Moonweave Tree on my personal map. I was engrossed in sketching the intricate, dreamlike patterns of its pollen strands when a sound shattered the stillness.
Crack...
That sound… It was not the natural snap of dry twigs I was accustomed to, nor was it the rustling steps of a deer on fallen leaves. It was sharper, harsher—the distinct clink of metal against stone, followed by hushed voices, their words indistinct. My heartbeat faltered. A strange unease coiled in my stomach. The deeper reaches of the Whispering Woods were seldom visited by humans—except for elderly herbalists or the occasional lost hunter.
I swiftly packed my journal and tools into my worn leather satchel, moving as silently as possible. I crept along the dense undergrowth, ignoring the small branches scratching at my sleeves, focusing only on locating the source of the noise.
Then I saw them—two men clad in dark gray work uniforms, figures unfamiliar to me. They were using a hand-drill-like tool, embedding gleaming silver stakes into the trunk of an ancient oak. A bright red engraving in the shape of an arrow marked the bark. It looked... menacing. Not like forestry department markings, nor the travel symbols left by explorers. It resembled a territorial brand—a declaration of ownership.
"Right here. Sector Gamma-3," one of them muttered, his tone clipped and businesslike. "As per the map. Two more markers, and we're done for the day."
"Good. Let's finish quickly. I don't want to linger—this forest gives me the creeps," the other replied, glancing around warily, as if expecting something to emerge from the shadows.
Sector Gamma? A map? Their words echoed in my mind. Lord Thorn's government had spoken of a "Frontier Development Initiative," but they had assured the public that protected forests would remain untouched. Yet, what I was witnessing now told a different story. This was the heart of the woods—staking claims like this was far from ordinary.
I remained hidden behind a cluster of giant ferns, watching as the men finished their work and departed, leaving behind only the cold metal stakes and the ominous red carvings on the ancient tree. I waited a moment longer, ensuring they had gone far enough before emerging from my hiding spot and cautiously approaching the oak.
My fingers brushed against the frigid metal. A sense of deep unease settled in my chest. I traced the rough red markings, trying to decipher their meaning.
Then, my eyes caught sight of something on the ground—a crumpled piece of old parchment, torn hastily as if discarded in a rush. It lay near the tree's roots. I bent down carefully and picked it up. A faded official seal lingered on the corner, though much of the black ink had smudged. Still, a few words remained legible...
"Expedite survey… Clear the area as scheduled… Sector Gamma… Classified as confidential…"
A chill ran down my spine. Clear the area? Confidential? A sickening realization twisted in my gut. This was no mere survey—this was preparation for destruction. And they were hiding it. Why? For what purpose? The so-called development Lord Thorn had promised—was it truly a cover for the eradication of the Whispering Woods?
I clenched the crumpled parchment tightly in my hand, lifting my gaze toward the towering trees that had long sheltered this land. But now, a looming shadow seemed to drape over them. The whispers in the wind I once heard no longer sounded like rustling leaves. Instead, they rang as a warning in my mind.
The uncertainty I had felt moments ago was now replaced by anger and fear. I had to find out what they were planning. And I had to stop it.
Without a second glance, I turned and sprinted back toward my cabin, the weight of revelation pressing upon me. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches, yet it seemed dimmer than ever before.
The crumpled parchment in my grip—perhaps it was just a fragment of a greater scheme. But at this moment, it was everything.
It was the beginning of a battle I never expected to fight.