Corruption of Haustfyr Chapter 5: The Eastern Grove

The mayor’s office emptied around us as Veylan hurried out, already calling for a courier to reach Maple before nightfall. For the first time since arriving in Caladhel, the tension in the air loosened. Our task here, earning the Arcury’s return to Haustfyr, was a success.

---The Last Mission---

Wint let out a long breath. "Well, now what?"

Allura nodded, her hands loosening on her lute. "I think we should head back to Haustrasill. Maple might have another task for us."

“Maybe we should rest for the night and check with Veylan in the morning. It’ll be quicker for Veylan to get a response from the courier than for us to travel all the way back there.” I said.

Pip threw his arms up. "Tavern beds! Real ones! With sheets! And drinks that aren’t medicinal!"

Roe flicked his ear. "Try not to get us thrown out."

We stepped back into the Caladhel streets as the lamps were being lit. For the first time since stepping into the city, the guards didn’t watch us like intruders. People moved with cautious optimism, murmurs of the Arcury’s redeployment spreading faster than wildfire.

We found a room at a modest inn just outside the central district. The warmth was immediate, the fire crackling, the smell of roasted root vegetables drifting in from the kitchen. We settled in, letting our armor ease from our shoulders.

It was well past nightfall when there was a soft knock on the door. Wint cracked the door open and peaked out, before nodding and opening it the rest of the way. Veylan stepped inside, cloak damp from the mist outside.

"Forgive the late hour," he said quietly, approaching us. "But a message arrived from Maple. With the Arcury assisting in containing the corruption, we can focus root of the problem—Arad. The corruption is worst at the Eastern Grove and Maple asks that you head there at first light.”

Pip stammered, “Wait, hold on. Us? Why us? You’ve sent Sayers out there before, real Sayers, ones with training and wisdom and actual experience. They never came back. And now you want to send…us?”

Veylan’s expression softened. "Pip, I understand your worry. The Sayers we sent before were powerful, yes, but they were also isolated. They went alone, one by one, facing a corruption none of us fully understood. You’re not walking into this as they did. You’ve faced the corruption directly and survived. You’ve shown resilience, instinct, and unity that even seasoned Sayers struggle to match. Maple believes you can succeed where others could not. And so do I."

He set a sealed parchment on the table. "This is your directive. Travel east at dawn. Havenstead Farm will be the first checkpoint on your route. From there, you’ll need to cross the Hollybraid once more and make for the Eastern Grove."

He lingered a moment more, then added, "And I’ve arranged an Arcury escort to see you safely as far as the farm. It’s a few days’ travel, and after what you’ve done for Caladhel, you’ve earned that much. They’ll meet you at the southern gate at first light."

He met each of our eyes before stepping back toward the door. "Rest while you can. I’m afraid your journey so far will be a walk in the park compared to what comes next."

---Arrival at Havenstead---

At first light, we gathered rations, fresh waterskins, and a few supplies the innkeeper insisted we take for our travels. Dew clings to the stones as we made our way to the southern gate, where the Arcury have already begun to mobilize. The change is striking, rows of officers in matching uniforms, polished leather and green-trimmed cloaks shifting with every movement. Bows rest against their saddles, quivers packed full. Caladhel is preparing.

Two mounted officers waited for us at the gate, reins in hand. Beside them stands a sturdy cart hitched to a pair of chestnut horses, its driver adjusting the straps with a practiced tug.

“You’re the HARP volunteers?” the lead officer asks. “Veylan briefed us. We’ll see you safely to Havenstead.” He gestures to the cart. “Ride as needed. The road’s not usually dangerous, but the corruption is unpredictable these days.”

The journey east is steady. The air grows a bit colder, and signs of corruption begin to appear. Small patches of blackened bark, the fall of rotten leaves, the feeling of being watched from beyond the treeline. The officers stay alert but calm, their presence a quiet reassurance.

A few days pass, and by the time Havenstead Farm rises over the next hill, the sun hangs low. Fences reinforced with timber spikes mark the perimeter, and mercenaries in mismatched armor stand guard. Their eyes narrow as we approached, hands drifting slowly toward their weapons.

One of them steps forward, brow furrowed. "State your business. Farm’s not open to travelers, not with all the raids lately."

The lead Arcury officer raises a hand in calm acknowledgment. "Escorting civilians under official directive. We’re here to deliver them to the farm’s eastern boundary." He nods towards us. "They carry sealed orders from Grand Sayer Maple of Haustrasill and Mayor Nokrom Eldemont of Caladhel."

The mercenary eyes us more closely now, suspicion giving way to recognition as I present the parchment. He breaks the seal just enough to verify the mark, then hands it back.

"Right then. You’re clear to enter. Be on your guard, the corruption’s been stirring the wildlife more than usual around here."

Once we were safely within the farm’s borders, the horses come to a halt. The lead officer offers a brief nod.

“This is as far as we go. Your path is east from here. The Shade Pass waits beyond the river.”

The cart driver gathers the reins and turns back toward Caladhel as the escort rides beside him. Soon, their silhouettes fade over the hill, into the horizon.

We stood at the edge of the Guildleaf rows, the wind shifting with the distant pulse of corruption. Even though we were cleared to enter, we noticed mercenary eyes on us.

---Havenstead Farm---

Havenstead Farm sat quietly, the once thriving fields of Guildleaf now sparse and dotted with eerie patches of wilting plants. Corruption twists through the landscape, turning amber leaves into sickly hues.

A few mercenaries watching us from their posts, suspicion sharp in their eyes. They don’t know who we are, only that strangers escorted in by the Arcury rarely mean good news. As we moved deeper into the farm, a kid, clothes stained with soil and Guildleaf dust, hurried to us.

He glanced around furtively, "Hey. You headed east?" he whispers. "Shade Pass’ll chew you up. But… I know a way. A quiet way, through Thistlewood." He jerks his chin toward the eastern fields. "We ship Guildleaf out on the water. There’s a barge that leaves before sunrise. If we can slip to the docks, I can get us a boat. But the docks are restricted, heavily guarded. So we gotta be smart and quick."

Roe narrows her eyes. "Why help us?"

The kid shrugs. "Extra coin. And…look, if you lot are actually marching east to deal with whatever’s warping Haustfyr, then getting you there faster is worth something to all of us. Just keep it quiet. No one else here needs to know."

His offer is risky, but it saves days of travel and cuts out the Shade Pass entirely. We all looked at each other and nodded.

We followed, weaving through rows of Guildleaf, ducking low as the mercenaries patrolled the fields. Wint nearly knocked over a crate of fertilizer. Roe scouted ahead, silencing us as two mercenaries pass close enough that we can smell the smoke and dried herbs on their armor. We slip through a narrow break in the fence towards the docks.

Suddenly, before we can reach the docks, a shrill, metallic hum ripples through the night.

The kid gulps. "Oh hells. Vespyre."

A swarm of Corrupted Vespyre erupts from the treeline, massive wasps the size of hunting dogs, their wings sparking embers that scatter across the fields. Their fire tinged stingers drip molten venom. Mercenaries shout, rushing to form defensive lines as the creatures dive.

Wint tightens his grip on his axe. “What’s the call? We helping or running?"

"We keep moving," I whisper. "If we’re caught here, none of this matters."

The rest of the group looks torn, but they follow.

We tried our best to stay out of sight, but the mercenaries running around and the Vespyres diving down at anything that moved made it difficult. Smoke curling from the burning underbrush and the heat radiating off of the insects made it difficult to breathe.

A Vespyre dove, almost striking me in the face. Allura unleashed a piercing note that threw it off-balance, sending it careening into a fence post. Another one spiraling overhead, glowing venom trailing its abdomen like a comet.

The kid shoves us. "Move! The docks are right there, c’mon!"

We took off sprinting, the ground shaking as large burning crates collapse behind us. Mercenaries screaming orders to each other in the distance. A few are already down, smoke curling at the edges of their armor.

The swarm of Vespyre turn towards the Guildleaf fields, attracted to the thick, sweet smoke rising from the burning crops. The mercenaries manage to rally and drive the Vespyre back from the crops.

"Go!" the kid yells. "They’ll hold them, we need to make a run for it!" He pushes us ahead through a gap in the chaos. The docks stretch below, once guarded but all mercenaries abandoning their posts, rushing toward the screams.

The kid points. "That barge! Far end! If we reach it—"

A Vespyre slams into him from behind, the molten stinger protruding from his chest. The impact cracks like snapping twigs. He goes down hard. The kid lifts a hand, bloodied and shaking. His wound instantly cauterized by the heat of the stinger. The venom already seeping through him, turning his veins a dark, sickly red.

"Help me!" he screams, voice cracking. "Don’t leave me here! Please! It burns!"

Before any of us can respond, another Vespyre lands hard on his body. His last breath barely escaping before the wasp’s mandibles dig into his flesh.

"Move!" Roe snaps.

Several other Vespyre appear beyond the foliage with us in their gaze. Without thinking, I cast Acid Raindance, a swirling mass of green haze spiraling upward before breaking into a sudden torrent of sizzling droplets. The corrosive rain splashes across them, eating through their fiery carapaces with sharp hissing cracks.

Wint charges at the wasp standing on the kid and meets it with a full brutal swing, burying his greataxe into its head. It crumples to the ground in a steaming heap.

Pip is on it instantly. "Stinger…stinger…stinger…" He hacks one free with surgical speed, the molten tip hissing against the cool night air. "Roe! The other one!" He points to a Vespyre that fell earlier in the chaos.

Roe keeps watch while Pip scrambles over crates, retrieves the second stinger, and tosses it into his satchel. "These’ll come in handy."

"We need to MOVE!" Wint shouts.

We run, vaulting over crates, ducking past a burning wagon, and dive onto the barge just as another Vespyre’s stinger slams into the dock where we stood moments ago.

The barge rocks dangerously as Roe cuts the final rope free. We shove off with a pole as the current finally drags the vessel away. A Vespyre lunges for the boat, but the spray of the river hisses against its fiery body, slowing it. It screeches and veers back toward the fields.

We watch as the farm burns in patches, the storage sheds alight, the fencing smoldering, but the Guildleaf rows themselves remain intact, protected by the desperate efforts of the remaining mercenaries.

---Crossing the Hollybraid---

We travel on the barge for days, powered by a fist sized amber crystal set into its console. I recognized the glow immediately, the same energy pulsing through the golem in Austruun. There is little to do except steer, eat, and rest. The river widens, then narrows again, the nights are cold but calm.

Pip spends the hours happily tinkering. He pries loose two worn dagger handles from his pack and, with excitement, fastens the Vespyre stingers he harvested into place.

"Behold!" he says, holding them up. "Vespyre Daggers. Sharp, fiery, and possibly illegal."

Roe smirks. "Definitely illegal."

We continue as the river widens, steering close to the coastline so we don’t sail too far. Eventually, wooden posts emerge from coastline. Lanterns hang from them like glowing fruit. The docks of Thistlewood. They’re sturdy, weather worn, and stand waiting at the edge of the shore.

---Thistlewood Arrival---

As we glided in, the village’s towering purple thistles appeared through the fog. Their stems thick as young trees, humming with soft magic.

"Okay…" Pip whispered. "This place is literally alive."

Roe narrows her eyes. "Look, when the wind hits the thistles, you can see the air bending. They must be radiating magic."

Allura whispers to us. "No corruption anywhere. How in the hell does that work when everything else out here is rotting?"

I felt it. A steady current of natural magic, warmer and calmer than anywhere we’ve been in weeks, moving deep through the land.

As the barge bumps against the dock, villagers gather. Havenstead barges rarely travel this way, and strangers aboard are even rarer. They approach with warmth, but with a cation learned from living so close to danger.

A male Fivelli extended his hand. "Welcome to Thistlewood. You’ve come far."

Allura dips her head politely. "We weren’t expecting to find a place untouched by corruption. Not this close to the Eastern Grove."

The villager smiles and gestures toward the towering thistle wall. "The thistles protect us. They’ve grown here since before my grandmother’s grandmother. Their roots lie close to the Grove. Arad’s presence has soaked this land in magic for ages, long before corruption twisted him. The thistles drink from that power, keeping the worst of the corruption at bay."

"So why not plant them everywhere?" Pip asked.

An elder approached, staff in hand. "We’ve tried. Outside this region, corruption kills them before they grow. It takes decades for a thistle to fully mature. And the land loses Arad’s touch the further south west you travel."

The elder’s eyes clouded with memory. "And the corruption does not only creep on land. The waters beyond our shore teem with twisted things. Had your boat drifted even a little off course, you might not have arrived at all."

A cold chill washed through me.

"Come," the villager says gently. "We will speak more in the village."

---Guidance from Thistlewood---

Thistlewood’s interior felt like stepping into another world. Homes shaped from living wood curved like grown sculptures. Smoke drifted from hearths, perfumed with crushed petals and resin. There was no inn, no tavern. Strangers were rare enough that residents offered spare beds or space near their fires. They had tools carved from wood and bone, shaped by years of tradition rather than any touch of modern craft.

Bioluminescent fungus and moss lit the paths. Blue, green, and purple mushrooms glowed beneath windows. The elders wait in a circular clearing at the center of the village, the air thick with ritual smoke. Their voices are soft but steady.

"The Barrows ahead are our sacred resting grounds. They, too, are protected by the remnants of Arad’s strength." One of the elders said.

Another elder added, voice low, "We visited him often before the corruption. His carapace was once smooth red, bright as autumn leaves. But on the day the corruption took hold…" She trembled. "His shell cracked. Dark red and coarse. Black ichor seeping. And beneath the plates, a sickly green glow pulsed like trapped fire. And behind him was a rift. A tear in the world itself."

Wint swallowed. "A rift?"

"Like a crack in time and space," the elder whispered. "It pulses with energy not of this land. We do not know what lies beyond it. But we know nothing good came when it opened."

Even here, their fear was visible. They knew their sanctuary would not last forever. Yet, when the elders looked at us, something changed. They had hope.

They provided rations, water, and warm clothes. "You will find rest until the Barrows end, marked by an ornate marker," one said. "Beyond that… the land grows extremely hostile. The Eastern Grove awaits you. We pray you are ready."

---The Barrows---

The Barrows did not feel like a graveyard. Not in any way we expected. No gloom clung to the air, no sense of dread pressed on our shoulders. Instead, the land welcomed us. It was quiet, solemn, and strangely warm.

Burial mounds rose in gentle hills across the landscape, each one adorned with ritual ornaments. Woven thistle wreaths, carved wooden tokens, and stone markers etched with spirals of old magic decorated the soil. Bioluminescent moss patterned across the ground, pulsing brighter with every step we took.

Tiny mushrooms sprouted in clusters around offerings, their caps glowing with pale blue light. Veins of rich soil shimmered beneath the surface with the faintest sheens of purple, as if the ground itself breathed with the pulse of ancient magic.

Small crystals grew from some burial sites. Delicate, green shards that glowed from within, casting a soft emerald light across the mounds. They hummed softly when the breeze passed over them, like distant chimes.

Wint slowed to a reverent pace. "Feels… peaceful."

Allura nodded. "It should feel heavy. But it doesn’t." She brushed her fingers along a glowing vine. "It feels like they’re watching over us. Not warning us away."

Even Pip was quiet, eyes wide as he studied the soft glow under his boots. "Creepy. But…in a good way?"

We moved with care, placing each step deliberately so as not to disturb offerings or crystal growths. Though no corruption touched this land, the Barrows were still sacred. We knew better than to treat them lightly.

We walked for days, miles of calm between us and the storm waiting in the east. We rested as often as we could, our sleep easier here than it had been in other places throughout Haustfyr. However, none of us truly relaxed. For even here, in this protected place, the world beyond never fully fell silent.

Gurgles and low growls echoed from deep within the tree line. Shrill cries of unseen creatures carried across the night sky. Dark shapes moved far beyond the safe boundary of the Barrows, their silhouettes warped and jerking.

And the closer we traveled toward the Eastern Grove, the more another sound joined the chorus.

A low hum. Vast, resonant, and ancient. It was Arad.

At first it was barely a vibration along the soil. But as the days stretched on, the hum became clearer. A deep, trembling tone that rolled through the earth like distant thunder. Sometimes it broke with a long, painful groan.

Even from days away, the sound was unmistakable. A god in agony.

When at last we reached the ornate marker, a tall stone totem, wrapped in thistles and glowing vines, we knew we were leaving the last safe haven behind.

"End of the line," Roe whispered.

No one hesitated. We stepped beyond the Barrows.

The shift was practically instant.

---Nightmares---

Then the nightmares began.

The ground turned slick beneath our boots, soil rotting into black muck that clung and sucked at every step. Trees sagged inward, their trunks warped, their roots twisting across the forest floor like living tendrils searching for something to strangle. Even the air felt heavier, humid with decay.

We hadn’t gone a hundred steps before the first creature found us.

A Corrupted Shambling Hound, a creature we were all too familiar with, burst from a tangle of roots, its jaw dripping black ichor. Vines pulsed through its fur like veins. It slammed into Wint with enough force to rattle his lungs. He staggered, blood running down his arm where its teeth scraped through his pauldron.

"Move!" Roe shouted.

I summoned roots into a burst of force that tore the creature off him, but not before it raked claws across Wint’s ribs. He grunted, breath shuddering, but pushed forward.

We ran, barely getting away. That set the tone for the next couple of days. Every few hours something came for us.

Next was a Wrathbear, a massive bear, electricity crackling through its corrupted hide. Its first bolt tore across the ground, burning a furrow of soil and slamming into Pip’s shoulder. He screamed, collapsing as smoke curled from the fabric of his tunic.

Allura threw an illusion wide enough to confuse its aim, her fingers shaking as she played. We dragged Pip, half conscious, until the trees hid the beast from view.

The forest gave us no peace. The next attack came well after nightfall.

Corrupted Shroomps came in swarms. Tiny mushroom folk with hollow eyes and chattering teeth. They scuttled over each other in waves, shrieking through the ichor oozing from their skin. The first jumped onto Roe’s boot, five more followed, climbing her leg, clawing at her hips, biting through her cloak as they dragged her down. Their teeth snapped at her face, their spongy fingers digging into her hair as they yanked and writhed. She tore one free with a scream, smashing it against a root hard enough to burst it into a spray of black spores, but more swarmed over her like a living tide.
“There’s too many!” she snarled.

Pip lobbed a burning branch at them, Wint swinging haymakers through the crowd, buying just enough time to scramble up a ridge. Even then, they swarmed the base of the slope, clawing at the earth and screaming up at us.

One morning, we thought the forest might finally tire of us. We were wrong.

Corrupted Amber Korbah circled overhead more than once, their screeches piercing the sky. Their talons dripped with green tinged rot. One dove so low it struck Allura’s head, talons tangling in her hair as it yanked her sideways. Its claws raked across her face, leaving burning lines of black ichor. She cried out, staggering back as glowing, corrupted feathers scattered across the ground. I called upon an Elemental Wrath, striking multiple Korbahs, buying us enough time to duck for cover.

We pressed on, hours dragging between each ambush, but none offering rest.

Then it was the Vespyre.

They hunted in spirals, the glow of their molten stingers weaving through the dark like fiery comets. One slammed into the earth beside me, throwing dirt and burning muck across my face hard enough to tear skin. Another clipped Wint’s back. Not a graze this time, but a deep, searing strike that sent him crashing to his knees as smoke boiled from the wound in his armor. Pip and Roe launched throwing knives at them so Wint and I could escape.

We limped through a stretch of twisted forest for hours after that. No attacks, only the sound of our own ragged breathing and the constant tremor of Arad’s distant hum shaking loose flakes of rot from the branches overhead. Every shadow looked like a threat waiting to take shape.

But nothing chilled me more than the Corrupted Sayers.

They wandered through the forest like ghosts, figures of every person who had come before us, seeking to cure the corruption and failing. Their spells seemed hollow, their eyes vacant and wild. A Fivelli Sayer collapsed in front of us, dragging himself by ruined hands, black ichor pouring from his cracked skin.

"H-help…" he rasped.

But when Wint stepped forward, the Sayer lunged, feral and screaming, teeth bared. Wint barely blocked the shattered staff before Roe dragged him back.

"They’re gone," she said, voice trembling. "There’s nothing left of them."

We never slept long. Not even once.

Twice we woke to creatures circling the edges of camp. Once Pip woke to a tendril curling around his boot. Another night, roots burst from the ground and nearly impaled Allura before she rolled aside.

Every rest was a risk. The forest knew we were there, and it wanted us gone.

As we continued, the sounds grew louder. Arad’s hum became a trembling call of desperation through the earth, shaking fallen branches.

"That’s him," Allura whispered one night, wiping blood from her arm. "Arad. We’re still days away… and we can hear him."

My stomach twisted. The magnitude of his suffering stretched across the land.
We ran, fought, hid, survived. Whatever we needed to do to reach Arad. At last, through the haze of rot and ichor, the trees thinned. The Eastern Grove waited ahead.

---The Eastern Grove---

The corruption did not thicken here, it crystallized.

The moment we stepped into the Grove, the world shifted into something alien and devastating. The forest’s old amber hues were gone, stripped away entirely. In their place, jagged formations of glowing green crystal jutted from the ground like broken ribs. They glimmered with a sickly inner light, casting warped shadows that crawled across the rot slick soil.

Every surface shimmered. Every branch dripped with luminous corruption.

Roots that once fed ancient trees were now blackened and split, leaking strands of green luminescence that pulsed like veins. The air hummed, thick with distorted magic that made my skin prickle.

And at the center of it all stood Arad, usually a symbol of tranquility, balance, and strength, now twitched with constant distress. His antennae jerked erratically, scraping the air as if searching for something that wasn’t there. His once brilliant red carapace, normally polished smooth, had lost all its luster. It was coarse now, cracked and uneven, oozing black ichor between the plates.

And beneath those plates, a green glow burning like trapped lightning, pulsing in uneven bursts.

Behind him was the source of it all, a rift.

Not a tear in fabric, more like shattered glass suspended in the air, each jagged edge reflecting a fractured version of the world. Within it swirled a spiraling vortex of darkness and pale green fire.
From within that impossible wound, thick tendrils reached out and wrapped around Arad’s limbs and shell. They were buried deep, fused to him in parasitic knots, pulsing in perfect time with the glow under his carapace.

His groans vibrated into the ground, through my bones. I could feel the Sooth going haywire here.
Wint exhaled. "We’re really doing this."

We stood together for a long moment, all of us breathing hard, sweat and dried blood clinging to our skin. Every instinct in me begged to turn back, but none of us moved.

Pip broke the silence first. "So… we just hit the giant god beetle until the problem fixes itself? Easy." His voice cracked halfway through the joke.

Wint tightened the straps of his armor, wincing as the gash across his ribs protested. "We don’t get another shot at this. Make it count."

Allura reached into her pouch and handed out vials of shimmering liquid. "Last of the potions. Drink slowly unless you like vomiting rainbows."

Pip uncorked his and sniffed. "Smells like old mushrooms and regret."

"Drink," Roe ordered.

I took a steadying breath. "Once we move," I said, "Arad will feel us and he won’t hold back. Neither can we."

Wint nodded firmly. "Then let’s finish what we started."

But before any of us moved, Roe lifted a hand. "Hold on. We still don’t have a plan. We can’t just rush a god bound by whatever that…thing is." She pointed toward the massive tendrils.

Wint grunted. "So, we hit Arad? Break him free?"

"We’re here to save him," I said quickly. "Not kill him. Attacking him directly risks pushing the corruption deeper. We need to focus on what’s holding him."

Allura swallowed hard, gaze fixed on the writhing mass behind Arad. "Those tendrils. There are five and thick as tree trunks. They’re feeding on him or feeding something into him. If we sever them… maybe we weaken whatever is controlling him?"

Pip raised a hand. "So, someone distracts the giant suffering bug while the rest of us chop through eldritch vines the size of trees? Sounds great. I volunteer Wint."

"We distract him together," Roe said firmly. "Illusions, noise, movement—whatever we can manage. Anything to pull his attention away from whoever’s cutting."

Wint stared. "I am not distracting a god. I’m cutting the damn vines."

Roe crossed her arms. "He’s right. Wint’s the only one strong enough to actually sever those things. The distraction has to come from us. Me, Pip, and Allura. We’re faster, harder to pin down, and we can split Arad’s focus."

Allura nodded, swallowing. "Illusions, misdirection, sound. I can keep his senses chasing shadows. If Pip and Roe stay moving, we can pull his attention away from you." She looked at me. "And you’ll need to watch Wint’s back. Afterall, we still don’t quite know what we’re up against."

I placed a hand on Pip’s shoulder. "Remember, our goal isn’t to hurt Arad. We sever the tendrils. Nothing else."

Roe pointed her dagger at the writhing mass behind him. "Five of them. Let’s take them one at a time. With any luck, they’ll get weaker the more we sever."

Wint gripped his axe, jaw set. "Enough chit chat, let’s free this god."

---The Final Battle---

Arad sensed us the moment we advanced. A shrill, resonant bellow tore from his throat. His antennae snapped upright, then he lunged. He was impossibly fast. His first strike crushed a crystal spire Wint had just rolled away from. The second flung Pip like a rag doll, knocking the air from his lungs. The third came for me, only Allura’s illusion saved my life, redirecting the blow just enough for it to hammer my shoulder instead of my ribs.

“MOVE!” Roe shouted.

Wint reached the nearest tendril. He jumped up on top and swung like he was chopping firewood. The blow barely cut an inch.

“What?!” Wint snarled. “It’s like stone!”

I summoned a Flamespit Totem, whipping fire at the tendril. Wint hacked at its surface, each swing barely carving a shallow groove. Roe and Pip stayed wide, shouting, throwing stones, waving arms, doing anything to pull Arad’s attention away without striking him directly. Allura cast frantic, flickering illusions to keep his eyes chasing phantoms.

Even with all of us working to keep Arad distracted and Wint forcing his axe deeper, it took swing after swing after swing, each one precise, each one violent, each one carving only the smallest inch. His breath hitched, his arms shook, sweat running down his side. By the time the tendril finally tore free, Wint was heaving, hands on his knees, staring at the severed mass with something like horror. The realization hit all of us at once.

We still had four more to go.

Arad roared. Then, without warning, he drove himself downward with brutal force, half burying his massive form in the soil. His shell rose above the earth like a steel bunker, immovable, impenetrable. He wasn’t disappearing. He was fortifying. All four tendrils ripped downward with him, tearing trenches through the corrupted earth as they were dragged violently below.

“What is he doing?!” Pip gasped.

“I—I don’t know!” I answered.

"Well, what do I do now?!" Wint shouted.

The ground exploded.

Several Corrupted Shambling Hounds burst forth. Corrupted Shroomps poured out in swarms.
We were surrounded.

Wint cleaved a hound in half but staggered from exhaustion. Allura unleashed a series of dissonant sounds, sending Shroomps into spasms. Pip slashed wildly. Roe fought like a cornered predator, blades a blur. I summoned my own Shambling Hound spirit, tearing into a corrupted one, buying Wint room to breathe.

Then the soil trembled, and Arad erupted upward, mandibles dripping ichor.

Allura’s illusions pulled his gaze aside, but even her movements were slowing. Her notes wavered, her breath unsteady. Pip sprinted wide, but his steps dragged, each stride shorter than the last. Roe pushed herself to keep pace, her blades flashing duller than before. The three of them were fraying at the edges. Lungs burning, knees buckling, sweat mixing with blood.

I held the corruption back with whatever magic I could muster, calling up Barkskin Totems to soften impacts, flinging spells to distract Arad for half seconds at a time. Wint reached the second tendril and swung. This tendril retaliated, a burst of green energy blasted him off his feet and sent him skidding through crystal shards.

“WINT!” I shouted.

He tried to rise and failed.

I summoned the Lunar Totem, channeling its soft glow into him. It wasn’t strength, not really, but it held him together long enough for him to stagger upright.

“Together!” Allura yelled to Pip and Roe, though her voice cracked.

Wint and I pressed back in. His swings were slower this time, each one shaking his entire frame. The tendril resisted harder than the first, its flesh rippling, thickening, fighting the blade. It took everything he had just to open the smallest wound.

I attacked it with the Flamespit. Roe and Pip darted dangerously close to Arad’s reach, shouting to distract him, their movements ragged. Allura’s illusions flickered like dying embers.

Finally, the tendril seized and tore free as Wint bellowed, a raw, primal roar that tore out of him like he was ripping it from the depths of his spirit. He threw every shred of strength he had left into that final swing. His whole body shaking, veins standing out along his neck, breath ripping from his lungs in a broken shout of defiance. The tendril burst apart under the force, corruption spraying like water from a hose.

Arad howled angrily, cracks spreading across his carapace. His bellow so loud, it stunned us all for a moment.

He countered instantly. Three rapid strikes, each one faster and heavier than the last.

One obliterated a crystal wall beside Wint and I, shards exploding in every direction like razors. A few tore across my cheek, hot blood blurring my vision.

Another slammed into Roe and hurled her through a stone outcropping. She hit the ground limp, gasping, blood running down her temple.

One caught Pip square in the ribs. The sound he made wasn’t a scream, just a choked, wet grunt as he crumpled, barely conscious, his daggers skittering from his hands.

Allura strummed a protective chord out of pure desperation, the notes warbling as corrupted air muffled the sound. The barrier flickered and shattered as Arad’s power broke through it.

“We’re dying out here!” she screamed to us, voice raw with terror.

“We keep going!” I shouted back, though my own voice shook. The ground trembled beneath Arad’s weight. One more volley like that and we won’t be able to get back up. I maintained the Lunar Totem for Wint but dropped back toward Allura, sliding across shattered crystal to reach her side. I couldn’t reach Pip and Roe, not through the chaos. I summoned the River Welk Spirit. It surged across the battlefield in a sweeping tide of cool, restorative water, weaving between shattered crystal and falling debris, washing over each of them from a distance.

It wasn’t much but a momentary steadiness.

Arad’s eyes glowed violently. He stomped and sent a shockwave shattering through the ground.

Wint struck the tendril, but this time he wasn’t alone. Pip and Roe stumbled forward, barely upright, covered in dirt and crystal dust. Their breaths were ragged, and steps uneven.

Allura, still on her knees and bleeding heavily, forced her shaking hands to her strings. She cast another illusion. Not a sprinting phantom this time, but a flicker of blinding light that veered Arad’s focus for the smallest second.

It was all we needed. Wint raised his axe. Pip threw himself against the opposite side, stabbing wildly with his Vespyre Daggers, each strike landing with a wet, hissing burn. Roe slashed in rhythm with him, carving deep where Wint’s blows weakened the flesh.

I stood farther back with Allura, drawing on what little magic I had left. I hurled every spark of magic I could muster. Small bursts, quick pulses, anything to distract Arad, anything to keep him from turning those burning green eyes on the three fighting for their lives.

Wint swung. Pip stabbed. Roe carved. The tendril fought back, pulsing, thickening, writhing under their strikes. Wint roared through clenched teeth, lifting the axe again. He drove the blade down with everything he had.

The third tendril snapped.

He plunged into the earth again. The ground fractured beneath the force of him. Then everything erupted at once.

More Corrupted Shroomps poured from the earth in a heaving wave, their shrieks cutting through the air. Corrupted Shambling Hounds burst forth after them, jaws snapping, bodies stitched from rot and roots. Tendrils of corrupted roots lashed blindly, whipping the ground, carving trenches where they struck.

A root coiled around Pip’s leg and yanked him upside down with such violence he nearly lost his dagger. His scream tore through the chaos.

A root struck between me and Allura, exploding crystal shards across my face. She was pale, swaying, her hands trembling as she tried lifting her lute.

“Allura, with me!” I shouted.

I summoned the Vespyre Spirit mid stride. It tore through the air, slicing at another tendril in a crackling arc of burning light.

Pip was thrown hard. Roe caught him, though the impact nearly took her down too. Both were hurting, barely standing.

Allura forced herself upright. A small string of notes escaped her strings, thin and wavering, but enough. A Harmonic Soul that shook me to the core. A healing pulse that provided just enough to push us back from the brink.

Roe’s voice cracked across the battlefield. “We can’t hold!”

“We need to hurry!” I shouted back, “We cut the last two before he kills us!”

Arad surged from the ground right beside me and Allura. So close I felt the heat of his breath. His mandibles snapped past my face, slicing the air with a sound like cracking stone. Arad lunged.
Wint didn’t hesitate. With a broken shout, he slammed into Arad’s side, taking the full brunt of the god’s fury. The impact hurled him across the clearing. When he hit the ground, he didn’t move.

“WINT!” Allura’s scream tore at her already shredded voice.

The world spun and panic started to settle in. I forced it down and summoned every remaining spirit and totem I could. The Flamespit’s whip cracked fire across the battlefield, my Amber Korbah dove in a streak of autumn light, the Shambling Hound slammed into Arad’s limb. They bought us only seconds.
Roe staggered forward, blood in her eyes. Pip limped beside her, half bent, one arm clutched to his ribs. No more daggers or tricks. Just grit.

We attacked the fourth tendril together.

This one fought hard. The flesh pulsed violently, knots of corruption writhing beneath the surface like living fists. It lashed out with bursts of energy, each one stronger than the last.

Roe was thrown back, slamming into the ground so hard she didn’t move. Pip screamed as a jolt of corrupted energy struck him square in the chest. He collapsed beside us, twitching, his breath shallow. Allura played a dissonant, fractured chord that forced Arad’s focus to flicker.

I stood alone between Arad and the fallen twins, hurling what scraps of magic I had left. Shards of light, flashes of heat, desperate bursts that bought us the moment we needed.

Wint rose, barely. One knee under him, blood pouring down his face. With a roar that shook the entire grove, he brought his axe down. The fourth tendril detonated in a spray of burning green corruption.

Arad reeled, screaming. Four tendrils, limp and deflated. Just one more.

The Eastern Grove fell into near darkness. The surrounding crystals dimmed to low light. The air thickened into something almost solid, like breathing through mud. Even the surrounding forest went silent.

Arad burrowed one last time, the earth convulsing around him. This time was different, there were no Shroomps or Shambling Hounds. When he rose, he was unrecognizable, a towering silhouette of burning green fire, trembling with agony and rage.

Wint was half conscious, running on fumes. Pip and Roe didn’t move at all. They were both sprawled in the dirt, eyes shut, chests rising only faintly. Allura stood upright just long enough to lift her lute before a violent backhand from one of Arad’s limbs sent her crashing into a tree. Her body wrapped around the tree with such force that she went limp, sliding down the trunk in a crumpled heap.

My limbs shook uncontrollably. Sweat pooling in my eyes, blood running down my side. I tried to draw breath and felt only fire. Still, I lifted my hands. But before I could do anything else, a corrupted vine shot from beneath Arad’s body.

I didn’t see it in time. It impaled me clean through the side, driving me backward into the ground. The impact stole every breath, every word. My vision burst into white stars. I tasted blood. I lay there for a moment, looking up through the canopy, the world spinning around me.

I could barely move, just enough to glance around at my friends.

Pip and Roe remained unconscious. Allura didn’t move at all.

Wint was the only one left. He forced himself upright. He should not have been alive, let alone fighting, but I guess it was the adrenaline rush. He dragged himself onto one knee, then another, every inch of him shaking, blood pouring freely from his wounds.

Arad lunged at him. I tried to shout and warn him, but only a rasp escaped my throat. But he didn’t need it.

With a broken, ragged roar, full of pain and desperation, he pushed off the ground and hurled himself at the final tendril. Arad snapped toward him. Wint raised his axe.

For a heartbeat, time froze.

Then, Wint swung. A single, heavy, perfect cleave. The tendril split apart. Green fire erupted in a blinding column.

Before darkness fell over me, I saw Wint fall to one knee and Arad collapse. Then everything went black.

---The Silhouette---

I woke to the sound of soft voices, not fighting or screaming.

Warm sunlight pressed against my eyelids. The air smelled crisp and cool, like a sunny autumn day. No signs of corruption burning my lungs.

I noticed the pain first, a deep, burning stab along my ribs where the vine had pierced me. Then, I felt the weight of a hand on my shoulder.

“Easy now,” a familiar voice murmured.

I forced my eyes open.

Grand Sayer Maple knelt beside me, palms aglow with steady healing light. Madam Bassina stood behind her, arms folded tight, worry softening her normally sharp expression.

Around them, dozens of Sayers in ceremonial garb, the elders of Thistlewood, and even a few Arcury.
Pip and Roe sat nearby, both groggy, bruised, wrapped in makeshift bandages. Their eyes widened when they saw me awake.

“Allura?” I rasped.

Roe’s expression dimmed. “Alive, but…she hasn’t woken.”

A few steps away, Allura lay on a bed of glowing moss, her chest rising in shallow, even breaths. A gentle magical aura pulsed faintly around her, a reflex of her resting magic.

“Wint?” I hesitated.

He lay still, covered in a white cloth. Pip swallowed hard and Roe looked away. Maple’s hand paused on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He saved all of you. He saved Arad.”

My breath hitched, a sound I barely recognized as my own grief tightening.

“Maple,” I whispered. “How… long was I out?”

“No more than an hour,” she said gently. “The moment the last tendril fell, the corruption retreated. The change swept through Haustfyr almost instantly, and we teleported as soon as we could.”

I looked around. The Eastern Grove was transformed.

The black rot was gone. The crystal spires glowed amber once more, just like the crystal powering the barge. The ground shimmered with life, and the air felt warm.

Arad rested half burrowed at the Grove’s center, his carapace restored to smooth red, though dimmed with exhaustion. His antennae twitched faintly in dreams. The severed tendrils lay shriveled and brittle around him like shed husks.

A murmur rippled through the gathered Sayers. One of them stood over the rift, inspecting its shattered form. “Grand Sayer,” he called. “You should see this.”

We all shifted to look.

The rift, once violent and blazing, now flickered like dying glass, edges splintering inward. But within that collapsing swirl of green flame…a silhouette.

A humanoid woman, watching us.

Maple gasped slightly.

“What in the…?” Bassina whispered.

The image held for only a heartbeat, and then the rift imploded.

A shockwave burst outward, hurling everyone back. The tendrils that were hanging from the rift collapsed in a heap of dead matter.

Everyone went silent. The rift was gone, and whatever watched from within it was gone too.