The Verdant Scar was less a forest and more a living, breathing entity. Trees towered like ancient gods, their roots coiled through the ground like serpents, and the very air shimmered with pollen and magic. Light filtered through layers of vine and mist, casting everything in a surreal, dreamlike glow.
"This place makes my skin crawl," Bryn muttered, swatting away a luminescent butterfly that tried to lick his face.
"It's not crawling," Lyra said. "It's vibrating. The leyline beneath us is awake."
Kaelen drew her blade. "The trees are watching."
"They are," said Zephren. "And they remember."
Elira poked a curious vine that reached toward her. It flinched away.
"I don't like that the plants have boundaries," she muttered. "Weirdly polite."
Kiran sniffed the air. "Something's burning."
They moved deeper into the forest, following the pulse of Aeren's crystal. It glowed brighter with each step, resonating with the heartbeat of the scar.
Aeren was quiet, the weight of his mother's revelation still pressing on him. Elira stayed close but didn't push. She just walked beside him, occasionally brushing her fingers against his in quiet reassurance.
"Do you trust her?" she asked finally.
"I want to," he said. "But I don't know if that's enough."
"She didn't seem like a villain."
"No. But she's part of the Watchers. And they don't exactly hand out friendship bracelets."
A howl shattered the stillness.
They froze.
From the treeline emerged creatures made of bark and bone—twisted forms with glowing eyes, their limbs creaking like dying wood. Five of them, and behind them, a much larger shape—horned and draped in moss.
"Wyrdroots," Lyra hissed. "The forest's guardians. Corrupted."
Kaelen stepped forward, twin swords gleaming. "Time for some firewood."
The battle exploded into motion.
Aeren summoned flame, sweeping arcs of fire that scorched the twisted bark. Bryn barreled into the biggest one, wrestling it like a rabid bear. Zephren's lightning lit up the sky, shattering roots with crackling force.
Lyra sang a soft tune, weaving protective barriers. Kiran controlled the ground beneath their feet, trapping enemies in coils of earth.
Elira? She just laughed as she flipped over a charging Wyrdroot and sliced through its spine.
"Didn't expect to fight evil shrubs today!" she shouted.
"Is it ever not evil shrubs?" Bryn roared.
The battle was fierce, but short. When the last creature fell, the forest sighed. Literally. The trees leaned back slightly, the magic pulsing softer now.
In the clearing, revealed by their fight, stood a stone arch—overgrown, but humming with power. The next memory node.
Aeren stepped through.
The world shifted again.
He stood in a garden. Peaceful. Sunlit. A place from a different time.
A woman tended to a flowerbed. She turned—and it was her.
His mother.
Younger.
She looked up at him and spoke, though her lips didn't move:
"To save the future, you must first forgive the past."
Then the vision shattered.
Back in the clearing, the node turned to dust. The crystal dimmed.
"I think she left these," Aeren said. "For me. For us."
Zephren placed a hand on his shoulder. "We follow the path. One node at a time."
Lyra checked her map. "Next one's far to the east. Past the Dune Reaches."
Elira groaned. "I hate sand."
Kiran chuckled. "But sand loves you."
Bryn stretched. "I'm just hoping there's a tavern somewhere between here and there."
They moved on, deeper into the wild.
And somewhere far away, in the Hollow Crown's spire, the silver-masked Watchers watched a flickering flame on a black map.
It had begun to spread.
And the world was watching.