Srek… srek… srek.
Each step Lea took stirred a soft whisper from the brittle leaves carpeting the forest floor — like she was awakening something ancient that wished to remain asleep. The flame of her oil lantern flickered gently in her grasp, breathing light into the darkness that clung to the trees like a second skin.
The air in Shadowfen felt heavier tonight, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
So… this is the inner forest.
Lea lifted her lantern higher, allowing its warm glow to reveal tree trunks black as void, their leaves tinted in bruised shades of red and violet. Nothing like the familiar green edge of the forest she visited daily — an edge filled with life, herbs, and sunlight.
Here, everything looked as though it had witnessed far too much death. The trees seemed older here — ancient, heavy with secrets, their red-violet leaves glowing faintly like bruised embers. It made the forest edge she knew so well feel like an entirely different world.
Though Shadowfen was notorious for its dangers, Lea had never feared its outskirts. But this — this was her first time stepping beyond the invisible line where safety ended and something far older began.
Her heart beat faster, not from fear alone, but from the weight of purpose pressing against her ribs.
"Lea, never go into Shadowfen alone."
Grandma Royse's voice echoed in her memory, distant yet piercing. For a brief moment, Lea could almost imagine the old woman standing behind her, tugging her back home.
But her feet did not stop.
Grandma… if I don't brave this forest, you'll be the one to die. So please… wait for me.
She tightened her grip on the lantern as if determination could flow through its handle into her veins.
Ahead, the path grew narrower, the trees leaning inward as if trying to close in on her. Fog clung low to the earth, catching faint moonlight that filtered through the twisted canopy overhead. The cold air brushed her cheeks like ghostly fingertips.
She had come seeking the Thanora Bloom — a rare plant said to be the key ingredient for a miracle cure, a remedy that might heal what no other medicine could.
For weeks, Grandma Royse — her mentor, her savior — had been bedridden, gripped by an illness no text had ever described. Not even the renowned healer herself recognized its symptoms.
Lea had searched every journal, every faded page, every scrap of research the old woman had left behind… and found only one fragile hope — a recipe for a powerful cure requiring an ingredient that grew only in the deepest part of Shadowfen.
That was why Lea walked alone beneath a moon smothered by clouds, guided by a lantern and desperate love. Her grandmother had saved her life once. Tonight, Lea intended to return the miracle.
She checked the worn map tucked into her pocket. The markings were crude and hurried — lines drawn by a trembling or time-pressed hand. Lea felt a pang in her chest; she was certain her grandmother had drawn the map herself.
And if her grandmother had once come this far… why?
The question trembled at the edge of her thoughts, but she pushed it aside.
To Lea, the outskirts of Shadowfen had always felt like an extension of her — a wild garden where she harvested hope. But the inner forest… it felt like stepping into a dark world that was the mother of death.
Rustle. Huft…
"Finally," Lea exhaled, relief warming her breath.
Before her stood rows of leafless trees rising like ancient sentinels. At their feet, knee-high plants thrived in dense clusters, glowing faintly beneath the lantern light.
No grass. No moss. No weeds. Only herbs — unnaturally abundant, as if the forest itself protected them.
Lea knelt and compared the plant before her to the sketch of the Thanora Bloom. She examined each leaf, each root, each stem. Then she plucked a single leaf and inhaled its delicate yet sharp scent.
"This is it… this must be it." Her voice trembled — relief and hope mingling like light through mist.
Carefully, she began harvesting the roots with a small shovel. The soil here parted softly, almost willingly, as though the forest itself permitted her intrusion.
"Just a few more… for cultivation later," she whispered, imagining her little garden blooming with life.
When her pouch was full, she tied it securely. "Grandma, I'm coming home soon."
She rose to her feet… and the world shifted.
Creak… Creak…
The sound drifted from every direction — like brittle bones stirring after centuries of stillness. The hairs at the back of her neck stood rigid.
Lea froze. A cold shiver brushed her skin. She turned, barely breathing — and watched as the leafless trees began to move.
With sharp, splintering groans, their roots tore free from the soil. Their trunks shuddered, straightened, then lurched forward, dragging their twisted shadows with them.
"No… Fog Ents?!"
Now she heard everything with terrifying clarity: the scratching of roots across dirt. The thin, poisonous mist exhaled from hollow trunks. A soft, deadly hissing, like venom seeping into the air.
This was the poison that rendered ordinary humans unconscious within hours — before the Fog Ents buried them alive and drained their life essence through the earth.
Lea's lungs burned, but her body held out. She had built resistance to countless toxins during her experiments. The Fog Ent mist was something she had studied before.
But even knowledge could not save her if she was caught. Don't die. Don't die, Lea. If you die, Grandma Royse dies with you!
Drag! Thud!
"Agh!"
Her foot snagged on a looping root, sending her sprawling across the ground. Her lantern flew from her grasp — spinning, sparking — before landing a short distance away, miraculously still lit.
The golden light wavered across the forest floor — and revealed something impossible.
Destroyed.
The Fog Ents lay fallen. Cleanly severed. Their trunks scattered like discarded marionettes cut by a single, merciless strike.
Lea's breath halted.
Someone had slain them. And anything capable of doing that so swiftly… was not human.
"Hei, girl. How did a human like you wander this deep into the forest?"
The voice came from directly behind her — deep, resonant, and unhurried, as though entirely unfazed by the danger that had nearly killed her.
Lea stiffened. In the edge of the lantern's glow, she caught a glimmer of white hair. A presence — cold, immense, and ancient — settled behind her like spreading shadows.
A chill surged through her spine. The aura radiating from the unseen stranger pressed against her like the weight of a storm.
"Humans shouldn't be able to survive this far," the voice continued. "Why haven't you collapsed from the Fog Ents' poison?"
She turned slightly — just enough to see eyes glowing gold, catching the lantern light like two molten embers. If he had slain the Fog Ents effortlessly… then he was far more dangerous than they were.
Lea's hand crawled toward her lantern. She had to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Wait."
A cold hand seized her chin, lifting her face. His touch was chilling yet strangely gentle, as though he feared she might break before he got his answer.
Her breath shattered in her lungs.
Dark skin glimmering like polished stone. Long, tapered ears. Features hewn with an otherworldly elegance. White hair cascading like starlight down his shoulders. And eyes — golden, luminous — reflecting the lantern flame like moonlight shattering on a black lake.
A Dark Elf.
A creature whispered about in stories.
He studied her trembling form with an expression that was neither hostile nor kind — merely curious, like a predator examining prey that behaved strangely.
"Your aura," he murmured, leaning in, voice a rich whisper in her ear. "It isn't human at all."
Her breath hitched. Her lips parted, struggling to form words. "W-what… what do you mean…?"
The Dark Elf lowered his gaze, scanning her eyes as if searching for a hidden truth. His pupils narrowed into sharp, predatory slits.
"You truly don't know?" A slow, dangerous smile unfurled on his lips.
"Your aura… girl... "
He drew even closer — close enough for her to feel the faint brush of his breath, cold as nightfall.
"…is the aura of someone who has already died."