Heading North
They left before dawn, when Havelune still slept under a veil of frost. The North called to them like a low note: a narrow path, bordered by mossy stones, that followed ice-bound streams and pines with trunks blued by the cold.
Kaelios's breath sometimes left a string of sparks in the air, an ill-controlled sign of his astral nature; Aërya, with a simple gesture, erased these crumbs of light to avoid being followed. Lioran led the way, confident, fast, and attentive to the slightest turned leaf.
"Don't speak loudly," he murmured. "Here, the forest repeats secrets."
> Aeni: Natural echo zone confirmed. Sound propagation amplified x1.7 by frosty surfaces. Recommendation: whisper.
>
Kaelios nodded, tightening his presence. His form constantly fluctuated—neither flesh nor wind—but the discipline he had learned from Lioran was beginning to take root. A discreet, cold, and clear power vibrated in his temples, opening up the layers of the world.
> Eye of Truth - activation.
> The colors of the landscape changed: recent tracks stood out in a luminous gray; poorly hidden magical filaments streamed under the ground like worms of black smoke. An obvious trail appeared, clumsily laid by hand; another, thin as a scar, plunged down the slope.
> "The heavy path is a decoy," Kaelios whispered. "The real trail... is over there."
>
Lioran gave a brief smile. "Good catch."
2) The Gray Border
At noon, they reached a low cliff that split the forest. Beyond it, the climate changed: the air became metallic, the light as if filtered through smoked glass. Aërya placed her fingers on the stone, closing her eyes.
"A divine scar... but woven by mortal hands. They've built a relay to siphon the sap from the nodes."
> Aeni: Correlation with previously encountered collectors: 93%. Presence of a probable ritual center.
>
Lioran studied the ledge. "A hidden bastion. Not a temple... a workshop. They make things that destroy."
The word hung in the air, bitter. Workshop. The shadow of the gods was exercised here by apostles, not by miracles.
3) The Obsidian Sanctuary
The passage opened behind a curtain of roots. A narrow gallery descended into the rock, carved by tools, not by time. Pale glyphs ran along the walls, drawing pumping cycles: from the forest node to obsidian vats.
"I'll take the lead," Lioran said. "If they've trapped the entrance, I can feel the stone better."
"Wait," Kaelios replied.
> Eye of Truth - focus / Divine Analysis - runic patterns.
> Thin magical scratches appeared, stretched from one stalactite to another: soot barbs ready to lacerate anyone who passed.
>
"Shadow nets."
"I can freeze them," Aërya offered.
"Better... I can link you to them," Kaelios whispered.
He placed two fingers on his own sternum, then on Aërya's wrist, and finally on Lioran's shoulder. A very soft, almost inaudible glow circulated.
> Essence Link - established (Kaelios ↔ Aërya ↔ Lioran).
> Aeni: Limited sharing of perceptions/rhythms. Risk of overload: moderate.
>
"Now, I see what you see," Aërya said, lowering her voice, surprised by the precision that flowed in.
"And I feel the breath of the stones like you do," Lioran murmured. "That's... useful."
Aërya blew a thread of Sylphides Astraéa; the light snaked along the traps, drew their exact pattern, and then froze them until they shattered. The corridor breathed freely.
4) The Mask Workshop
At the bottom of the gallery, a room fanned out in a semicircle. Vats, tables, tools, rolls of dark metal... and most of all, bone masks lined up like the faces of eyeless children. Three unofficial figures were busy, their hoods pulled down.
Lioran gave a brief signal. Foot-leaf—his steps left no trace, his breath matched the rhythm of the stone. He slipped behind a pillar and armed his bow.
"I'll launch," he said.
"I'll provide support," Kaelios replied, Divine Analysis already active.
"I will purify," Aërya concluded.
> Skill: Arrows of Sylvan Harmony!
> The quiver vibrated; three green shafts struck three wrists with surgical precision. The tools fell; the hoods turned too late. A blue-black barrier rose to cut off their escape.
>
> Elementary Runic Wall!
> The barrier pushed up like a rock emerging from the ground; the glyphs, carved on the fly by Lioran, lit up in a solid checkerboard.
> "On your knees," one of the hooded figures growled.
> "We are not your judges," Aërya said, "but we will put an end to what you are doing."
>
With a gesture, Kaelios unlinked the vats from their siphon network. The captive flows sighed back to the ground with a forest's breath.
> Aeni: Reverse channeling successful. 68% of the flow returned to the node. Remaining to neutralize: central ritual core.
>
"Core?" Lioran asked, already moving.
"Lower down. It's... it's pulsing," Kaelios replied, his hand against the rock.
A sharp shock shook the room. The opposite wall cracked, pouring a stream of shadows like black water. A tall masked figure entered, surrounded by a halo of soot.
"Stand away from the work," she said. "By order of Vael'Tor."
5) The Hierophant
She wore a tunic of fine blades sewn like scales, and her bone mask, crossed by a black rune, seemed to drink the light.
"A hierophant," Lioran whispered.
"A forewoman of faith," Aërya corrected, her eyes cold.
The presence made the room vibrate. Threads of shadow rose to the ceiling, calling thin figures out of the walls: soot guardians, bent over, faceless.
> Aeni: Multiple hostiles. Suggestion: task separation. Lioran: terrain control. Aërya: targeted purification. Kaelios: core neutralization and channel disruption.
>
"We follow Aeni," Kaelios said, and he didn't need to convince them.
Lioran fired a volley—Arrows of Sylvan Harmony—that pinned three specters to the ground, their forms twisting like sheets in a fire. With a gesture, he drew a second Elementary Runic Wall in an arc to break the charge of the others.
Aërya extended her hands, and a scent of dawn spread: Salvific Light flooded the room, undoing knots of shadow, forcing two figures to retreat until they dissolved.
The hierophant extended her palm. "Canticle of Soot."
The runes on Lioran's wall darkened, as if the night was drinking them from within.
"I'll power it!" Kaelios called out.
> Essence Link - reinforcement (Kaelios → Lioran).
> Lioran felt a new vigor rush through his arms; he mentally re-engraved the glyphs that Kaelios "showed" him via the link, adding ventilation cuts and evacuation patterns. The wall regained its clarity, then reflected the soot like a mirror.
>
"Not bad, stranger," the hierophant sneered. "You copy quickly."
"I remember quickly," Kaelios corrected, and his Universal Memory arched images of runes through their links.
6) The Core
Under their feet, a dull thumping. Kaelios, with an enlarged Eye of Truth, saw through the rock: a ritual heart—an obsidian crystal bound with iron chains, irrigated by a flow stolen from the node.
"I'm going down," he said. "Hold her off."
He became thin, almost mist, flowing down a crack, guided by Aërya who was feeding the Essence Link with her light to stabilize his form.
> Aeni: Core frequency: 47 hertz. Destructive resonance possible via Will interference.
>
Kaelios placed his palm on the obsidian.
"Primordial Will."
He didn't crush; he de-phased. The stone vibrated, losing its coherence. The chains, deprived of their heart, scattered like broken beads.
Above, the hierophant screamed; her shadows lost their footing.
"Call of the Ancestral Sylph!" Lioran responded, taking advantage of the opening: roots surged from the ceiling and immobilized the guardians.
"Echo of Yldera," Aërya murmured: her voice unfurled in clear waves, seeking and breaking the reverberations of the Canticle of Soot even in the cracks. The room regained breathable air.
7) The Aftershock
Kaelios came back up, pale and trembling; his astral integrity wavered.
> Aeni: Integrity 69%. Rest required. Drift controlled thanks to the link.
>
"It's holding," he said between breaths.
"It's holding," Lioran confirmed, placing a quick hand on his shoulder, his gaze already elsewhere: the hierophant was retreating, but she wasn't finished.
The masked figure struck her staff down. The rock opened onto a second room: cages. Silhouettes stirred within them—captives, blindfolded, wrists tied.
"They take people for faith," Aërya said in a white voice.
"To feed their faith," Lioran corrected, already in motion.
The hierophant raised her mask to them.
"You came to cut a branch. I am making the tree grow."
She invoked a Sigil of Reversion. The fragments of the destroyed core began to rush together, drawn to a circle. The room trembled; fractures appeared on the ceiling.
"She wants to collapse the complex on the cages," Kaelios said, his Eye of Truth burning.
"I'll get the locks!" Lioran called out.
8) Lioran's Dance
He ran. Foot-leaf: not a single pebble wobbled under his weight. At the bars: Runes of Breaking traced in a flash with his engraved dagger; at the locks: Arrows of Harmony used as levers of light. The doors yielded one after another, and each time a captive collapsed, Aërya placed her hand—Infinite Grace—to restore breath and movement.
"Two more rows!" Lioran shouted, sweat on his temples.
"I'll prevent the collapse," Kaelios said.
> Primordial Will - counter-pressure column, aligned with the fractures.
> Aeni: Risk of personal breakdown increased. Reduction via Essence Link sharing?
> "Draw on me," Aërya offered without hesitation.
> "And on me," Lioran added, without lifting his head.
>
The link vibrated like a string stretched too tight, but it held. The stones stopped weeping.
9) "Prepare the gods to bleed"
Cornered, the masked creature tore the rune from her forehead; the room was stained with an oily blackness. A circle lit up under her feet: Anchor of Vael'Tor.
"Let him see you," she sneered. "Let him learn your scents."
A shadow rose behind her, not a god, but the gaze of a god—an offspring of will, an aggressive memory. The temperature plummeted.
Kaelios looked up. Eye of Truth pierced the film of spectacle to reach the seam: a point of contact drew threads to the rune she had torn off.
"There," he said.
Lioran's arrow shot forth, green, swift, terrible. It broke the seam. The shadow recoiled, wounded but not defeated; the hierophant, deprived of her anchor, staggered.
"You think you've won?" she hissed. "You've only lit our torch."
"Then watch," Aërya replied, calm, and her Salvific Light swept over the mask with a clarity so bright that the creature screamed, smoking like snow at noon.
She threw herself into the crack, fleeing into corridors where the captives could not follow her. The workshop vibrated one last time, then calmed down: core destroyed, cages open, siphons silent.
The silence, suddenly, was heavy. The people were crying softly, confused, but alive.
10) Aftermath - Omen
"We'll take them back to Havelune," Lioran said, his voice hoarse. "Then we'll come back. This was just a workshop. The center... is higher up in the mountains."
"I feel it too," Kaelios said. "There's a choir behind these walls. A hand that beats the measure."
Aërya placed a hand over each of their hearts, as if to take the measure of the lives recovered.
"The shadow didn't win today," she whispered. "It will learn to bleed."
They emerged when the evening was painting the snow a deep mauve. The caravan of survivors moved between the pines; Lioran brought up the rear, his smile tired but genuine.
Kaelios, his Eye of Truth still half-open, then saw something that shouldn't have been there: a black filament, thin as a hair, clinging to Lioran's shadow, swaying to the rhythm of his steps.
> Aeni: Anomaly detected. Residual mark. Origin: hierophant / Anchor of Vael'Tor contact. Intensity: weak, probable growth under stimulus.
> "We'll take care of it at camp," Kaelios thought, without saying it. "Not tonight."
>
In the distance, the mountain blinked with a ritual light, like an evil lighthouse. They knew where to go. They knew what they had just provoked.
Lioran passed by Kaelios, giving his shoulder a light tap.
"Tomorrow, we'll cut off the hand that beats the measure," he said.
"Tomorrow," Kaelios repeated. And his gaze, hard and clear, was no longer that of a stranger.
End of Chapter 4.