Logo for Shadows of Gaia: The Rise of Zenith

Cast of Characters

Aluxes Appearance: A young man in his early 20s, with a lean but athletic build. His piercing blue eyes shine with determination, contrasting his unkempt orange hair that falls just above his shoulders. Aluxes wears a set of practical yet slightly worn adventurer’s gear, adorned with subtle verdant motifs representing his connection to magic.

Role: A resilient and ambitious traveler, Aluxes seeks to uncover the truth about his past while shouldering the burdens of the present. His journey is one of growth, leadership, and self-discovery.

Tali Appearance: A lithe woman with striking green eyes that seem to hold a spark of mischief. Her auburn hair is tied into a loose braid that falls over her shoulder. Dressed in lightweight leather armor, she carries a set of twin daggers on her hips, each etched with intricate runes. As a cat-kin, she bears several feline features such as pointed ears on the top of her head (nonfunctional) and a feline tail protruding from her rear

Role: A skilled rogue and Aluxes’ closest companion, Tali’s quick thinking and unwavering loyalty make her an invaluable ally. Beneath her sharp wit lies a deep sense of care and courage.

Elrik Appearance: An elderly man with a tall, imposing stature. His long, flowing silver beard and weathered face are testaments to his years of experience. Clad in robes of deep green and gold, he carries a staff adorned with a luminous crystal. His calm demeanor is accentuated by his wise, gray eyes.

Role: A seasoned mage and mentor, Elrik serves as the guiding light of the group, often providing wisdom and clarity in their darkest moments. His mastery of magic is matched only by his compassion.

Garrick Appearance: A stocky, broad-shouldered man with a rugged, battle-worn appearance. His fiery red beard and long hair frame his expressive, stern face. He wears sturdy chainmail under a fur-lined cloak, and his massive war hammer never leaves his side.

Role: A steadfast warrior with a protective heart, Garrick brings strength and camaraderie to the group. His unyielding spirit often serves as a rallying point for his companions.

Bjørn Appearance: An middle-aged man with a thin but sturdy frame, his face marked by deep lines of age and wisdom, with short, brown hair, a bit unkempt, his eyes gleam with an almost youthful curiosity. He wears simple yet finely crafted robes and carries a small, ornate tome.

Role: A scholar and mystic, Bjørn’s knowledge of the ancient arts and Verdancia magic proves crucial on the group’s journey. Despite his frailty, his intellect and resourcefulness are unmatched.

Zenith Appearance: A tall, wiry figure with sharp, angular features. His pale complexion is offset by piercing amber eyes that seem to burn with intensity. He wears dark, flowing robes, adorned with symbols that seem to shift and writhe when stared at for too long.

Role: A mysterious and enigmatic presence, Zenith’s motivations remain shrouded, but his actions ripple across the realms. His calculating nature and immense power make him a force to be reckoned with.

Malgrin Appearance: A sinister figure cloaked in shadow. His gaunt frame and ashen skin make him appear almost spectral, while his crimson eyes glint with malice. His attire is dark and tattered, with faint wisps of dark energy emanating from him.

Role: A malevolent force of destruction, Malgrin’s presence casts a long shadow over the journey. His cunning and mastery of forbidden magic make him an ever-present danger.

Korrin Appearance: An elderly inventor with a wiry build. His wild, graying hair is often covered by a soot-stained cap. He wears a patchwork of leather and metal, reflecting years of tinkering and innovation. His hands are rough, but his eyes shine with a perpetual twinkle of curiosity.

Role: A brilliant inventor whose creations revolutionize travel. Korrin provides the group with a means to traverse the vast lands and aids them in their quest with his eccentric genius.

Prologue

Legends speak of an era before land and life, when the cosmos lay shrouded in eternal silence, its vast depths untouched. After countless centuries, the stillness was broken by The Architect, the ruler of the infinite. From the void, The Architect forged The Pillars, ancient and primordial objects imbued with unimaginable power. These Pillars became the birthplace of two deities: Appa, the embodiment of light and wisdom, and Baphomet, a being of shadow and ambition.

The Architect entrusted Appa and Baphomet with a sacred purpose—to shape the spiritual realms that would define existence. Through their boundless power, the two created The Aether, a radiant sanctuary where the virtuous would find eternal peace, and Helheim, known also as The Netherworld, a fiery abyss where the wicked were condemned to suffer. Appa took their place as the benevolent ruler of The Aether, while Baphomet, succumbing to pride and malice, became the tyrannical overlord of Helheim, reveling in the torment of the damned.

On the First Day, The Architect turned their gaze to the physical world and created Gaia, a serene and vibrant planet teeming with potential. On the Second Day, they filled it with life, shaping the natural world—trees, flowers, rivers, and skies. Among Gaia’s wonders, they crafted the Ent, towering guardians of the forests, tasked with preserving the planet’s harmony.

Finally, The Architect gave Gaia its most complex creation: humanity. The first humans, Avon and Edith, were shaped from the very essence of the planet. They thrived and multiplied, their descendants spreading across Gaia, shaping civilizations and laying the foundations of society. In time, humanity grew ambitious, establishing four great cities, each flourishing in a unique biome:

The Great Frost, a realm of unyielding cold and resilience. The Plains, a fertile land of endless grasslands. The Dunes, a sun-scorched expanse of golden sand. The Farlands, an untamed wilderness shrouded in mystery.

With prosperity came governance. A royal council arose, uniting the cities under common laws and introducing a universal currency: gold, the shimmering metal that symbolized wealth and power. Yet, humanity’s innate greed soon gave way to conflict. Jealousy and mistrust grew between the cities, and the unity forged in their early days began to fracture, sowing the seeds of future strife. Centuries later, in The Great Frost, the biting winds howled through the frozen expanse, carrying with them tales of both heroes and despair. Amidst the frostbitten cliffs of Eryndor, two lives, unknowingly intertwined by fate, were set on paths destined to collide.

In a quiet village near the outskirts of the frost’s edge, a traveling blacksmith, Garrick Thorne, stumbled upon a strange discovery. While seeking refuge during a raging storm, he heard the faint cries of an infant carried on the wind. Following the sound, Garrick discovered a baby boy, wrapped in silken cloth, abandoned by an unknown hand. Garrick, having retired from the royal army and longing for purpose, took the child in as his own, naming him Aluxes. Aluxes grew under Garrick’s care, spending his days learning the craft of smithing and the art of combat. Garrick often spoke of his time in the army, teaching the boy the values of bravery, honor, and the duty to protect the innocent. Aluxes’ resolve and skill grew alongside his compassion, and villagers began to whisper that he was destined for greatness.

Far from the quiet life of Aluxes, in the dark and desolate wastes of The Farlands, another story unfolded. A cruel and exiled sorcerer named Malgrin returned from obscurity, bringing with him a child he claimed to have “rescued” from the frost. This boy, who Malgrin called Zenith, was raised with no kindness or love, but with unrelenting lessons in forbidden magic and the cold truth of power. To Malgrin, Zenith was not a son but a tool—an instrument to fulfill his dark designs. While Aluxes grew to embody the ideals of hope and justice, Zenith became an enigma, his presence feared even by those in the shadowy circles of The Farlands. Where Aluxes’ path was one of unity, Zenith walked a road of solitude, his thoughts consumed by whispers of vengeance against a world he barely understood. Neither boy knew of the other, yet their fates seemed inexplicably bound. Strange signs began to emerge—visions seen by the seers, echoes of the same celestial alignment that marked their births, and ancient texts foretelling the rise of two opposing forces who would determine Gaia’s future. The mystery surrounding their origins deepened as their legends grew, Aluxes becoming a hero of the people, and Zenith a shadowy figure amassing power in secret. What neither could comprehend was that their stories were but two halves of a greater truth—one that, when uncovered, would shake the very foundations of Gaia.

Act I

Chapter 1: Forged in Fire

The rhythmic crackle of the forge fire echoed faintly in the stillness of the predawn hours. Outside, the frost-bitten village of Eryndor slept beneath a blanket of snow, its rooftops glimmering under a pale crescent moon. Within the modest home adjoining the blacksmith’s workshop, Garrick Thorne stood by the bed of his adopted son, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “Aluxes,” Garrick said, his gruff voice cutting through the quiet. “Time to wake up, boy. You’ve had enough beauty sleep for one lifetime.” Aluxes stirred, his face twitching as if caught in the throes of some vivid dream. His breathing quickened, his hands gripping the blanket tightly. “Aluxes!” Garrick barked, this time louder. With a sharp gasp, Aluxes jolted awake, his eyes wide and chest heaving. He stared at the ceiling, the remnants of the dream—a dream so vivid it felt real—still lingering in his mind. Flames, shadows, and a voice he couldn’t place. “Another nightmare?” Garrick asked, his tone softening. Aluxes sat up slowly, running a hand through his tousled hair. “It wasn’t just a nightmare,” he muttered, his voice low and uncertain. “It felt… different. Like it was trying to tell me something.” Garrick grunted, dragging a stool closer to the bedside. He sat down heavily, his calloused hands resting on his knees. “Dreams are just dreams, lad. Nothing more. You’ve got a busy day ahead. The forge waits for no one.” Aluxes shook his head, his brow knit in frustration. “No, this wasn’t ordinary. I saw… a man cloaked in shadow, standing on a mountain of flames. He was wielding something—a sword, I think. But it wasn’t any sword I’ve ever seen.”

Garrick’s expression hardened at the description, though he masked it quickly. “A sword, you say?” “Yes,” Aluxes said, his gaze distant. “And then… there was a voice. It told me something, but I can’t remember what.” He clenched his fists, willing the fragments of the dream to coalesce into clarity. “It felt important, Garrick. Like it was showing me my future.” Garrick leaned forward, his steely eyes locking with Aluxes’. “Listen, boy. Dreams or no, life’s battles are won by steel and sweat, not by omens. Whatever you think you saw, put it aside for now. The forge won’t stoke itself, and you’ll need all your strength if you’re to make something of yourself.” Aluxes nodded reluctantly, though the dream lingered in the back of his mind like an unfinished puzzle. “Alright,” he said, throwing the blanket aside and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Good lad.” Garrick clapped him on the shoulder. “Get dressed and meet me in the forge. I’ve got a blade for you to finish. As Garrick left the room, Aluxes sat in silence for a moment, staring at his hands. The vivid imagery of the dream gnawed at him—a vision of fire, shadow, and the enigmatic voice that whispered a truth he couldn’t yet grasp. The sharp ring of hammer against steel filled the forge as Aluxes worked, sweat beading on his brow despite the frigid air creeping in from outside. The rhythmic clang was a familiar sound, grounding him in the present, even as the strange dream lingered at the edge of his mind. “Keep your strikes steady,” Garrick called from across the workshop, his deep voice cutting through the din. “That blade isn’t going to shape itself, lad.” “Yes, Garrick,” Aluxes replied, tightening his grip on the hammer. He brought it down with precision, the glowing steel sparking under the impact. The older man watched him intently, arms folded across his broad chest. Garrick Thorne had always been a stern mentor, but there was a quiet pride in his gaze as he observed Aluxes’ growing skill. “You’ve got a good hand for it,” he said finally. “Better than I did at your age.” Aluxes glanced up, surprised by the rare compliment. “You mean that?” “Aye, but don’t let it go to your head,” Garrick said with a smirk. “You’ve still got plenty to learn. Now quench it before you overheat the metal.”

Aluxes nodded and plunged the blade into a barrel of oil. Steam hissed and billowed around him, the sharp smell filling the air. As the blade cooled, he lifted it from the oil, inspecting its shape. It wasn’t perfect, but it was solid work—functional and well-balanced. Garrick approached, taking the blade from his hands. He ran a practiced eye along its edge, nodding approvingly. “Not bad. Could use some refining, but you’re getting there.” “Thanks,” Aluxes said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t thank me yet,” Garrick replied. “There’s still the edge to grind, the hilt to fit, and a proper temper to finish it off. Get to work.” Aluxes groaned but obeyed, carrying the blade to the grindstone. As he turned the wheel, his thoughts drifted back to the dream. The shadowed figure, the flames, the sword—it all felt so real. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it meant something, no matter what Garrick said. “Your mind’s not on the task,” Garrick said, startling him. “I’m fine,” Aluxes lied. “You’re thinking about that dream,” Garrick said bluntly. Aluxes sighed, stopping the grindstone. “It’s just… it felt so real. Like it wasn’t just a dream but a warning. Or maybe a sign.” “Signs, warnings, prophecies—they’re all well and good for storytellers,” Garrick said, leaning against the workbench. “But real life doesn’t wait for visions, boy. You want to change something? You take action. The rest will follow.” Aluxes opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the forge door burst open, letting in a gust of icy wind. A young man from the village stumbled in, his face pale and eyes wide with fear. “Garrick! Aluxes!” he gasped. “There’s—there’s something in the woods!” Garrick straightened immediately, his hand instinctively moving to the sword on his hip. “What kind of something?” “A creature,” the young man stammered. “Big. Covered in shadows. It attacked old Harwin’s sheep. He’s saying it’s a demon!” Garrick’s jaw tightened, and he exchanged a glance with Aluxes. “Stay here,” he ordered. “No,” Aluxes said firmly, stepping forward. “I’m coming with you.”

“This isn’t a game, boy.” “I’m not a boy anymore,” Aluxes shot back. “I’m ready. Let me prove it.” Garrick studied him for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. Grab your sword. But you stay close to me, and you follow my orders. Understood?” “Yes, sir,” Aluxes said, his heart pounding with equal parts fear and excitement. As the two prepared to face the unknown, the dream lingered in Aluxes’ mind, the shadowed figure seeming to whisper from the edges of memory. Whatever awaited them in the woods, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was only the beginning. The young man’s frantic breathing filled the forge as Garrick grabbed his cloak from a nearby hook. He stopped abruptly, his expression hardening as if the mention of Harwin had stirred something deeper. “Harwin, you said?” Garrick asked, his tone more serious than Aluxes had ever heard. “Yes,” the young man replied, still catching his breath. “It attacked his flock. He tried to fight it off, but he couldn’t stop it.” Garrick’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “That fool never did learn to stay out of trouble.” Aluxes frowned, glancing between them. “You know him?” “Aye, I know him,” Garrick said, his voice quieter now. He pulled his sword from its scabbard, inspecting the blade as he spoke. “Harwin and I fought together in the Royal Army, back in the days when the kingdom still mattered. He wasn’t just a comrade. He was family.” “Family?” Aluxes repeated, surprised. Garrick nodded, his eyes distant. “Harwin saved my life more times than I care to admit. Stubborn as an ox and just as reckless, but there’s no one I’d rather have at my side in a fight.” He sheathed the blade with a heavy sigh. “When the war ended, he came here, looking for a quieter life. Bought that farm with what little coin he had left and never looked back. Not much of a fighter anymore, but he’s still got that stubborn streak.” Aluxes watched Garrick carefully, noting the uncharacteristic emotion in his voice. “If he’s that important to you, then we can’t let anything happen to him.” Garrick glanced at him, his expression softening for a moment. “No, we can’t.” The young man shifted nervously. “Please, hurry. It—it might come back.”

Garrick nodded, his composure returning. “We’re going. Aluxes, grab your gear.” As Aluxes hurried to arm himself, Garrick turned back to the young villager. “What exactly did Harwin see?” “He said it was like a shadow, but solid. Huge. Eyes like burning coals. It tore through the flock like they were nothing.” Garrick’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening on his sword. “Stay here. Lock the doors and don’t open them for anyone but us.” The young man nodded, his face pale as Garrick turned to Aluxes. “Ready?” Garrick asked. “Ready,” Aluxes replied, determination etched on his face. “Good.” Garrick moved toward the door, pausing briefly. His voice was quieter now, almost to himself. “Hold on, Harwin. We’re coming.”

Chapter 2: Into the Woods The snow crunched underfoot as Garrick and Aluxes ventured into the dense forest beyond Eryndor. The trees, ancient and towering, seemed to lean inward as though whispering secrets to one another. Shadows danced in the faint moonlight, and the bitter wind carried an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional creak of branches.

“Stay close,” Garrick muttered, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

Aluxes nodded, his own weapon clutched tightly in his hand. The strange dream continued to nag at him, and the memory of the villager’s description of the creature—“a shadow with burning eyes”—sent a chill down his spine.

The two followed the faint trail of disturbed snow and scattered wool deeper into the woods. A broken fence and streaks of blood in the snow marked where Harwin’s flock had been attacked.

“Harwin wouldn’t leave this kind of mess willingly,” Garrick said, his voice tense.

As they moved further, the forest grew darker, the canopy above blotting out the moonlight. Suddenly, the faint sound of chanting reached their ears—low and rhythmic, as though the forest itself was humming.

“Do you hear that?” Aluxes asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Garrick nodded, motioning for silence. The two crept closer, following the sound until they reached a small clearing.

There, kneeling in the center of the glade, was a figure shrouded in a cloak of woven leaves and moss. The man’s head was bowed, his hands pressed against the frost-covered ground. Around him, the forest seemed alive—vines writhed, and the trees groaned as though responding to his presence.

“What in the Architect’s name…” Garrick muttered under his breath.

The figure looked up, revealing a youthful face framed by wild, copper-brown hair and a short beard. His green eyes gleamed with a mix of calm and intensity. He stood slowly, brushing the frost from his hands.

“You’re scaring the trees, you know,” the man said casually, his voice rich with warmth and humor.

Garrick stepped forward, his sword drawn but lowered. “Who are you?”

The man tilted his head, smiling faintly. “I could ask the same of you, friend, but that would be rude, wouldn’t it? Name’s Bjørn. And you are?”

“Garrick Thorne,” Garrick replied tersely. “This is Aluxes. We’re here because of the attacks. What do you know about them?”

Bjørn sighed, his expression growing serious. “Ah, so you’re looking for the shadow beast. Nasty thing, that. You’re brave—or foolish—for coming after it without understanding what you’re dealing with.”

“And what are we dealing with?” Aluxes asked, stepping closer.

“A creature of Helheim,” Bjørn said grimly. “An abomination twisted by dark magic. It doesn’t belong here, and it’s thrown the forest into chaos. Even the Ents are restless.”

“Ents?” Aluxes repeated, his brow furrowed.

Bjørn smiled faintly. “You don’t know much about the forest, do you, boy? The Ents are its guardians. Ancient beings older than your cities. They’re not happy about this intrusion.”

“Can you stop it?” Garrick asked.

Bjørn shrugged. “Maybe. But I could use some help. The beast is strong, and it’s feeding on the fear it’s caused. If you’re serious about protecting your village, you’ll need more than swords and steel.”

Garrick hesitated, glancing at Aluxes. “And why should we trust you?”

“Because I’m not the one attacking your sheep,” Bjørn said dryly. “But if you’d rather take your chances without me, be my guest.”

“Enough,” Aluxes interjected. “We don’t have time to argue. If you know how to stop this thing, we’ll help you.”

Bjørn studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Follow me.”

With a wave of his hand, the forest seemed to part for him, vines retracting to reveal a narrow path. The three set off, Bjørn leading the way.

As they walked, Bjørn spoke over his shoulder. “The beast is bound to the forest, but it’s growing stronger. If we don’t stop it soon, it could corrupt the entire area. I’ll need you two to hold it off while I prepare a binding spell. Think you can manage that?”

“We’ll manage,” Garrick said firmly.

Aluxes tightened his grip on his sword, determination blazing in his eyes. The dream, the shadow, and the burning eyes—it was all beginning to make sense. This was the first step in a journey he couldn’t yet fully comprehend, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t turning back. The narrow path Bjørn had revealed wove deeper into the forest, its twists and turns illuminated only by the faint glow of moss clinging to the trees. The eerie stillness was broken by the occasional snap of a twig or the rustle of unseen creatures.

Bjørn walked ahead, his stride unhurried despite the tension in the air. Garrick followed close behind, his hand on his sword, while Aluxes trailed, his eyes darting around at every noise.

“You’re jumpy, lad,” Bjørn remarked without turning around.

“Can you blame him?” Garrick said. “He’s not used to wandering through cursed woods with a stranger leading the way.”

“Stranger?” Bjørn glanced back with mock offense. “I told you my name. That makes me a friend.”

“That’s not how it works,” Garrick replied gruffly.

Bjørn chuckled. “Ah, the famous trust issues of the Royal Army. You soldiers never change.”

Garrick stiffened at the comment, but Aluxes seized the moment to steer the conversation. “You seem to know a lot about the forest. How did you end up… out here?”

Bjørn smiled, his pace slowing slightly. “You could say the forest chose me. I was a city boy once, believe it or not. Grew up in the Dunes. Sand as far as the eye could see. But I never felt at home there. Too loud, too crowded. One day, I wandered out into the wilds, and, well, I never really came back.”

“Just like that?” Aluxes asked, intrigued.

“Not quite,” Bjørn admitted. “There was a bit of running involved. Turns out, the merchant I worked for didn’t take kindly to losing half his inventory to a rather clever fox.” He winked. “But that’s a story for another time.”

Aluxes couldn’t help but grin. “And the magic? Did you always have it?”

Bjørn’s expression softened. “No. That came later. The forest teaches those who are willing to listen. It’s alive, you know. Every tree, every vine—it’s all connected. Once I understood that, the magic just… clicked.”

“That’s impressive,” Aluxes said, admiration creeping into his voice.

“Impressive, is it?” Bjørn replied with a smirk. “What about you, lad? What’s your story? Aside from being dragged into cursed forests by grumpy blacksmiths.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Garrick grumbled.

Aluxes hesitated, unsure of what to say. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve lived in Eryndor my whole life. Garrick’s been training me to smith and fight. I guess… I just want to prove I’m capable of more.”

“More, huh?” Bjørn said thoughtfully. “That’s a good start. The world needs people who want to make a difference. Just be careful not to lose yourself along the way.”

“What about you, Garrick?” Aluxes asked, eager to shift the focus. “You’ve got stories, don’t you?”

Garrick sighed, his gaze fixed ahead. “Plenty of them. None worth telling.”

“Oh, come now,” Bjørn teased. “You’re not going to keep your young apprentice in the dark, are you? I’m sure there’s a tale or two of glory hidden under all that grumpiness.”

Garrick shot him a glare but relented after a moment. “Fine. There was one time during the siege of Torsen’s Gate. My unit was outnumbered three to one. We held the line for days, fighting tooth and nail. Lost a lot of good men, but we didn’t break.”

Bjørn raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d be the type to keep things lighthearted.”

Garrick shrugged. “War isn’t lighthearted.”

The weight of Garrick’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, the group fell silent.

Bjørn finally spoke, his tone softer. “You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”

“Too much,” Garrick admitted.

Aluxes looked between them, a newfound respect for both men growing within him. Garrick’s strength and discipline were constants in his life, but Bjørn’s connection to the world around them—his easy humor and wisdom—offered something Aluxes hadn’t realized he needed.

The forest seemed less foreboding as they walked on, the tension easing with the rhythm of their conversation. Even Garrick’s stern demeanor softened slightly, though he’d never admit it.

“You know,” Bjørn said, breaking the silence, “if we survive this, I might teach you a thing or two about the forest’s magic. You’ve got potential, Aluxes.”

“Me?” Aluxes asked, surprised.

“Why not?” Bjørn replied with a grin. “The forest accepts all who are willing to listen.”

Aluxes couldn’t hide his excitement, but before he could respond, a low growl echoed through the trees, freezing them all in place.

“Stay sharp,” Garrick muttered, drawing his sword.

Bjørn’s carefree demeanor vanished, replaced by a calm intensity. “The beast is close. Ready yourselves.”

The air grew colder, the shadows deeper, as the forest held its breath in anticipation of the coming battle.

Chapter 3: The Beast in the Shadows The growl grew louder, reverberating through the forest like thunder. Aluxes gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. Beside him, Garrick steadied his stance, his eyes scanning the darkened treeline. Bjørn knelt, pressing his hand to the ground, his lips moving in a quiet incantation.

“There,” Bjørn whispered, pointing toward the shadows.

The beast emerged slowly, its hulking form barely distinguishable from the darkness around it. It was a mass of writhing shadow, its outline shifting and amorphous. Two glowing, ember-like eyes burned in its head, and when it opened its mouth, rows of jagged, translucent teeth gleamed.

“What in Helheim is that?” Aluxes muttered, his voice trembling.

“A shadow wraith,” Bjørn said grimly, rising to his feet. “Corrupted by dark magic. It feeds on fear, and from the looks of it, it’s been gorging itself.”

“Wonderful,” Garrick said dryly. “So how do we kill it?”

“We don’t,” Bjørn replied, his tone serious. “Not yet. It’s bound to this forest. I need to break that connection first. Keep it busy while I prepare the spell.”

“Of course,” Garrick said with a sigh. “Just another day in paradise.”

The wraith lunged suddenly, its form elongating unnaturally as it closed the distance between them in an instant. Garrick shoved Aluxes aside, raising his sword to meet the beast’s claws. Steel clashed with shadow, and the impact sent Garrick skidding back, his boots digging into the dirt.

“Aluxes, move!” Garrick barked.

Aluxes scrambled to his feet, charging the creature from the side. His sword cut through its mass, but it was like slicing through smoke—there was no resistance, no satisfying impact. The wraith screeched, a sound that made the hairs on the back of Aluxes’ neck stand on end, and swiped at him with a claw.

He barely dodged, the force of the swing sending him tumbling into the underbrush.

“Steel won’t harm it,” Bjørn called over his shoulder, his hands glowing faintly green as he began drawing a complex sigil in the air. “You need to outsmart it. Use its size and anger against it!”

Garrick rolled his eyes. “Fantastic advice, mage. Got any practical suggestions?”

“Keep it away from me, for one,” Bjørn replied, his voice calm despite the chaos. “And maybe try not to die.”

Garrick cursed under his breath, darting forward to slash at the wraith again. This time, he aimed for its glowing eyes. The beast recoiled, its screech piercing the air, and Garrick smirked. “It doesn’t like that!”

“Good!” Bjørn shouted. “Keep it distracted!”

Aluxes picked himself up, shaking off the dirt and leaves. He watched Garrick and the wraith clash, trying to think of a way to help. Bjørn’s words echoed in his mind—outsmart it.

His eyes darted to the trees above. The wraith was tall and unwieldy, its movements powerful but sluggish. A plan began to form.

“Garrick!” Aluxes called. “Lead it toward that big tree! I’ve got an idea!”

Garrick glanced at him, then nodded. “You’d better know what you’re doing, boy.”

The blacksmith darted toward the massive tree Aluxes had indicated, the wraith following close behind. Its claws tore through the air, narrowly missing him as he ducked and weaved.

Aluxes sprinted toward the tree, positioning himself on the opposite side. He waited until Garrick was clear, then raised his sword. “Hey! Over here!”

The wraith turned, Its glowing eyes locking onto him. It lunged, its massive form barreling straight toward the tree. At the last moment, Aluxes dove out of the way. The wraith collided with the trunk, its claws sinking into the wood.

The tree groaned and shuddered as if in pain. Bjørn’s voice rose, sharp and commanding, as he completed his spell. The sigil he had drawn flared to life, the green light spreading outward in rippling waves.

“Now!” Bjørn shouted.

The vines around the clearing came alive, wrapping around the wraith’s limbs and holding it in place. The creature thrashed and screeched, but the vines tightened, glowing faintly with Bjørn’s magic.

“It’s bound!” Bjørn called. “But not for long! We need to finish this!”

“What do we do?” Aluxes asked, rushing to his side.

Bjørn’s eyes were fierce as he thrust his hand toward Aluxes’ sword. “Your blade. It won’t work on its own, but with this…” A faint green glow enveloped the sword as Bjørn muttered another incantation.

Aluxes felt a surge of energy as the magic infused his weapon. “What now?”

“Strike its core,” Bjørn said. “The light will do the rest.”

Garrick moved to cover Aluxes as he charged toward the struggling wraith. Its glowing eyes flared, and it lashed out desperately, but the vines held firm. Aluxes leapt, raising his sword high, and brought it down with all his strength.

The blade pierced the wraith’s chest, and a blinding light erupted from the wound. The creature let out a final, bone-chilling screech before dissolving into shadowy wisps, which were quickly consumed by the light.

As the forest fell silent, Aluxes dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. Bjørn approached, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Well done, lad,” the mage said with a smile. “You’ve got potential, no doubt about it.”

Garrick sheathed his sword, his expression a mix of relief and pride. “Not bad for your first real fight.”

Aluxes looked up at them, a small smile on his face. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Maybe,” Bjørn said with a wink. “But you’ll need to learn to do it on your own someday. Luckily, you’ve got me now. I’ll make sure you’re ready for whatever comes next.”

Aluxes stood panting, his heart racing from the adrenaline, but his mind was already racing with questions. The wraith’s defeat had been swift, but something about the way Bjørn had commanded the forest, and the magic infused into his sword, intrigued him.

He turned to Bjørn, who was still watching the spot where the wraith had vanished. The mage’s eyes were thoughtful, his lips slightly pursed as if listening to something only he could hear.

“Bjørn,” Aluxes said, his voice still a little breathless. “Thank you. For saving us.”

Bjørn’s gaze shifted back to him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s what I do, lad. But you’ve got the right instincts. That was a good call, using the tree. It made all the difference.”

Aluxes felt a surge of pride, though his mind quickly returned to the mystery of the magic. “But… how did you do that? The vines, the light, everything—what kind of magic was that?”

Bjørn raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from casual to a bit more serious. “Ah, now you’re asking the right questions.” He paused, considering how best to explain. “That magic is called Verdancia—the magic of the earth, nature’s lifeblood. It’s not the type of arcane power most mages use, but it’s just as potent, in its own way. It’s tied to the land itself— plants, trees, and the forces that shape the world beneath our feet.”

Aluxes’s eyes widened. “Verdancia? I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s not surprising,” Bjørn said with a chuckle. “It’s not as widely practiced as the more traditional forms of magic. Most people are too caught up in the ways of fire and ice, of summoning lightning or casting shields. But nature magic is ancient. It’s older than any spell you’ll find in the arcane texts. It’s the first magic. The kind that shaped the world before we ever thought to bend it to our will.”

Aluxes found himself fascinated, hanging on every word. “So… what you did, with the vines? Is that… is that part of Verdancia?”

Bjørn nodded, his eyes distant, as if remembering something from a time long past. “Yes, that was the bind. The forest reaches out to protect itself when it’s threatened. I simply asked it to help me hold the creature in place. The forest’s energy—its spirit—has always been tied to the balance of life here. In exchange for protection, it requires respect. You can’t force it, or the magic will turn against you. That’s why a lot of the old mages failed. They tried to dominate the land, instead of listening to it.”

Aluxes blinked. “So… you’re saying it’s like talking to the forest? Asking for its help?”

Bjørn smiled. “Exactly. The forest is alive in a way most people forget. The trees, the soil, the very air—it all has a spirit. The Ents, they’re the guardians of that spirit, but the forest itself, the magic—it’s part of everything here. You just have to learn how to listen.”

“And what about that light?” Aluxes asked, his curiosity growing. “How did you make my sword glow like that?”

“That,” Bjørn said, “was a small trick I used to help amplify your sword’s impact. The wraith wasn’t entirely physical—it was a creature born of darkness and magic, but with a core that’s vulnerable to light. A physical weapon, like your sword, couldn’t touch it, but the light

infused into it could disrupt its essence. That’s why I enchanted the blade. It gave it a bit of nature’s force to strike where steel alone couldn’t.”

Aluxes’s head was spinning with all the new information. “So, you’re saying that… if I learn this Verdancia, I could do that too?”

Bjørn gave a soft laugh. “Perhaps, lad, but don’t get ahead of yourself. Verdancia isn’t something you can just learn overnight. It’s a deep bond with the land—it requires patience, respect, and a certain way of thinking. You can’t force it. It’ll take time, and plenty of mistakes.” He looked over at Aluxes, a knowing glint in his eyes. “But I think you’re ready for it. You have the right heart. That’s more important than anything.”

“Really?” Aluxes asked, surprised.

Bjørn nodded. “If you’re willing to learn, then yes. But be warned: Nature doesn’t always give answers. Sometimes, it makes you work for them.”

Garrick, who had been standing nearby with his arms crossed, finally spoke up, breaking the moment of reflection. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get out of this cursed forest before anything else pops out.”

Bjørn’s grin returned. “Always the pragmatist, Garrick. Fine. But before we go, there’s one more thing I’ll say: learn the land. Learn to feel it, and you’ll unlock more power than you can imagine.”

Aluxes, energized by the knowledge and the possibilities now laid before him, nodded eagerly. “I’ll do that. I promise.”

Garrick rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about “mage talk” and “overcomplicating things.” But Aluxes didn’t care.

His path ahead was clearer now. There was more to magic than what he’d known, and Bjørn was the guide he never expected but desperately needed.

Chapter 4: The Vision The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale silver glow through the cracks in the wooden walls of the cabin. Aluxes lay in his bed, the day’s events swirling in his mind like a storm. His body was weary, and his thoughts were heavy with the teachings of Bjørn, the enigmatic mage who had shown him the ancient ways of Verdancia. But despite his exhaustion, his mind refused to rest.

As the night deepened, Aluxes fell into a restless sleep. His dreams were vivid, filled with fragmented images of the forest, Bjørn’s magic, and the wraith’s final, writhing moments. But there was more—a swirling vision that felt like a warning. Aluxes stood in the heart of a vast forest. The trees were ancient, their roots deep in the earth, twisting and reaching like the arms of sleeping giants. The air was thick with the scent of moss and fresh rain, the ground soft beneath his feet. But there was something wrong. A sense of unease clung to the air like a storm cloud.

He turned, and there was Bjørn, standing beside him, his eyes closed in deep concentration. The earth trembled slightly beneath their feet, and Aluxes felt the pulse of the land itself. Bjørn raised his arms, his robes rustling, and a wave of energy surged through the trees. The forest seemed to come alive, the branches reaching toward the sky, the vines twisting with power.

But the magic was not without cost. A dark shadow loomed in the distance, moving like smoke but with purpose. It was a wraith—a different one from the one they’d fought in the clearing. Its eyes glowed like embers, its body shifting between solid and liquid as if it didn’t belong in this world at all.

Aluxes stepped forward, but Bjørn held out a hand, stopping him. “Wait,” Bjørn’s voice echoed in his mind. “You will face this alone, in your own time.”

The Library