Vjerniskógur lay concealed deep in the heart of Zvjezdano Nórland—a vast, primeval woodland where the relentless march of time dared not tread. Towering giants with silver bark reached upward like ancient sentinels, their countless limbs whispering in a tongue as old and enigmatic as the cosmos. Pale, ethereal beams of light broke through the dense, verdant canopy, illuminating drifting motes of magic that sparkled like frost frozen in mid-air, lending the forest an aura of solemn, otherworldly reverence—as if it harbored all memories of ages past.
At one glance, nothing appeared altered. The forest still wore its familiar guise: a velvet hush entwined among the trees and the labyrinthine paths curving mysteriously through the undergrowth. Yet those who intimately knew the wilderness felt a subtle, unsettling change deep within their bones.
Something was different.
Where once birdsong cascaded joyfully from well-known nests, there was now an eerie absence. The soft hum of life had been traded for a dense, suffocating stillness—as if the entire woodland held its breath, waiting in anxious anticipation. Trees that once beckoned with a gentle welcome now stood as solemn, watchful figures. Even the air, once imbued with a warm, pulsating magic, had cooled and sharpened, now carrying the scent of something wilder and unrestrained. The sunlight, which had gently caressed the leaves, now struck through them like shards of glass.
Vjerniskógur had not transformed in its very form... but it had changed nonetheless. And the forest, in its ancient wisdom, was acutely aware.
Mei-Ling and her companions advanced cautiously, instinctively sliding into a tight formation as they traced the overgrown path toward the abandoned outpost. Time had claimed the old stone markers; they were swallowed whole by a verdant cloak of moss, while the ground around them was littered with broken arrows—sun-bleached shafts, brittle with age and steeped in silent testimony to past conflicts. Yet in the clearing, there were no bodies, no traces of bloodshed—only the oppressive weight of silence.
Crossing the outer gates, the outpost unfolded before them—a structure not utterly ruined but conspicuously abandoned, as though its inhabitants had left mid-endeavor Incomplete walls edged with scaffolding clung precariously, windows lay fractured, doors hung loosely ajar, and tattered, sun-bleached banners fluttered forlornly in a gently chilly breeze. Once pulsing vibrantly with life, the stronghold now existed as a frozen relic, caught in the midst of a single, uncompleted breath of time.
"Looks like someone tried to rebuild," Hoki remarked, crouching low to scrutinize the battered iron fittings of a broken gate, her voice thick with equal parts curiosity and exasperation "Then simply gave up."
"Or perhaps fled in haste," added Feredis as he swept his hand over a dusty, abandoned crate. "It's hard to be certain. But one thing is clear—it has been a very long time."
Without further ado, Fror and Yueli veered north, while Gror and Xueyi explored the southern and eastern edges of the compound. Feredis, Hoki, and Miyx circled to the west, carefully probing for any trace of life. There was none—only the whispering echoes of what had once been.
Even Jingfei's old kitchen—once a cacophony of clanging pots, flashing knives, and the fiery assault of her notoriously potent chilli stew—had succumbed to forlorn neglect. The cabinets stood empty and bare, the shelves had been stripped of all remnants, and a delicate film of dust clung over everything like a soft layer of frost. The sensation was unsettling, as if the very soul of the place had been drained away.
Gathering in the dim centre of the courtyard, the group exchanged grim observations.
"No one here," Fror stated simply, arms folded tightly across his chest.
"No fresh tracks," Xueyi added, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "No signs of fire, no food, no footprints at all... nothing."
"You think they all died?" Feredis asked, voice low and edged with sorrow as he crossed his arms more tightly.
"Shut it," Hoki snapped sharply, elbowing him with cutting disdain.
Feredis opened his mouth for a rebuttal, then glanced toward Mei-Ling and fell silent. She had not uttered a single word since their arrival. Her eyes, dark and searching, wandered over the empty, abandoned structures, as if seeking someone—or something—that was no longer there.
Without another word, she turned and began heading toward Aelric's old office, with Gui silently tailing her. Hoki started to follow, but Feredis gently caught her arm. "Let her be," he murmured quietly. "We'll get a fire going, hunt for something to eat, and tackle this mystery again tomorrow."
"But—" Hoki protested uncertainly.
"She needs this moment," Feredis insisted, his tone firm.
Hoki frowned in reluctant concession and then nodded.
Feredis set about gathering firewood with muttered complaints about how "mystical fox spirits are excellent at looking pretty while doing nothing—hardly of any help when it comes to the actual labour." As though to underscore his point, the two fox spirits flickered with a shimmering glow, quickly shifting into their lithe animal forms—a flash of white fur and silver mist melting into the dense, shadowed woods.
Fror nudged Gror with a wry smile. "I love a woman who can hunt."
Gror grinned broadly in agreement. "Absolutely."
By the time the fire crackled steadily in the courtyard pit—its warmth seeping into their stiff, tired hands and tentatively restoring their bruised morale—Yueli and Xueyi returned, triumphant and exuding smug satisfaction, each cradling a massive, scurrying rat. The aroma of roasted roots mingled with an unmistakable, earthy scent that hinted at the rodent's presence. Spirits now lifted and gentle laughter began to ripple through the group... except for one.
Mei-Ling stepped silently into Aelric's once cherished office. The room slumbered under a soft grey shroud of dust that dulled what had been a kaleidoscope of vibrant colour and treasured memories. The grand chair, carved with imposing detail and forever too large for her when she playfully perched upon its arm during mid-briefing antics, still occupied its place. The timeworn table, cloaked in a thin layer of grime, bore the faded imprints of their ancient tea mugs. With a tender, almost reverent gesture, she swept her hand across the desk, stirring up a delicate plume of dust that caught in her throat like a forgotten memory. Then, sinking slowly into the chair, the floorboards groaned under her weight, and the heady scent of aged paper and dried ink enveloped her like a comforting, long-lost blanket with a quiet, resigned sigh, she leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the worn surface of the desk, as if seeking solace in its familiar grooves.
Her fingers grazed the desk's edge. "Aelric," she whispered, voice trembling with both longing and sorrow, "I'm home at last." A single, solitary tear traced a slow, bittersweet path down her cheek. "But you're no longer here."
Her quiet communion with the past was suddenly interrupted by a soft knock at the door. It creaked open to reveal Hoki peeking inside. "We've started a fire... made some food. Mei-Ling, have you found anyone?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of concern and cautious hope.
Mei-Ling shook her head without lifting her gaze, her voice a ghost of regret. "No. Not a soul."
"We're camping here tonight," Hoki explained. "We'll plan everything out tomorrow. You can speak then, if you choose."
"I'm not hungry," Mei-Ling replied softly. "I'll sleep here—in his office."
Hoki hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Good night."
As the door closed with a gentle thud, Mei-Ling lifted herself back up, releasing another long, heavy sigh. Her hand moved almost instinctively beneath the desk—a residual habit from years of conserving secret notes during strategy meetings. Suddenly, something rough brushed her fingertips. It was paper.
She blinked in surprised wonder. Reaching underneath, her fingers curled around a small, rolled parchment sealed with a cracked wax imprint. Her heart skipped a beat as she pulled it free, her breath trembling with a mingling of fear and anticipation. The faded seal was nearly imperceptible, yet the handwriting that adorned the parchment was unmistakable—it was hers, and it belonged to Jingfei.
With trembling fingers, Mei-Ling broke the seal and unrolled the letter. The words leapt from the parchment:
"Mei-Ling,
If you are reading this, then the stars have guided you home—and I knew you would return. I always believed you would. We are safe, for the moment. We have found refuge beyond Snežni Nordtop.
There is a haven hidden within the fairlands, beneath the icy expanse. A monastery—ancient and imbued with great power. We wait for you there.
Come find us.
Love, Jingfei"
Her eyes widened as hope slowly kindled within her, rushing back into her lungs like long-awaited air after a suffocating dive beneath deep waters. They were alive. Jingfei was alive. And she was waiting.
With a surge of renewed determination, Mei-Ling sprang to her feet, her heart pounding like a drum as her boots resounded against the creaking wooden floor. She raced back into the courtyard, where the rest of the group lounged around the fire, casually passing around roasted meat and debating whether the ethics of consuming whiskered creatures could be deemed morally questionable.
"Feredis!" she called, waving the precious parchment high for all to see. "Listen—everyone!"
They turned as one. Holding the letter aloft, her eyes shone with fervour and breathless joy. "Jingfei left a letter! She's alive—everyone is safe! They've found refuge beyond Snežni Nordtop in a monastery hidden beneath the ice."
A hush fell over the group for a suspended moment, then—as if a spell had been broken—cheers erupted. Gror whooped exuberantly and tossed a hefty log into the blazing fire. Yueli and Xueyi now returned to their human forms, beamed broadly, while Hoki exhaled a sharp, relieved breath. Feredis leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "See? I told you someone would leave a trail."
In the midst of the gathering, Mei-Ling stood as a beacon of hope, clutching that fragile letter like a map guiding them back to brighter days. Tomorrow, the journey would begin in earnest. Tonight, beneath the endless tapestry of stars, they dared again to believe in the promise of a new dawn.