Dawn always slips silently into Etheria's deepest night, like a timid messenger bearing a faint, yet undeniable light. But when that light falls upon the wasteland beyond the city walls, it is diluted by an unshakable pallor—rendering it weak and feeble. The cold morning wind stirs up dry dust, striking Raine Dawnstar's face with a biting chill, yet it also clears the muddled remnants of his sleepless night from his mind, sharpening his thoughts a little.
They had just emerged from a concealed crack in the city wall, behind them the city's somnolent, oppressive silhouette still exuding its heavy atmosphere; ahead lay an endless, silent, and desolate wilderness. The grave tension present in Karrion's workshop the previous night was now magnified by the solitude of the wasteland, weighing heavily on each of their hearts.
Raine appeared somewhat agitated. He kept readjusting his pack and unconsciously stroking the cool dwarf talisman tucked inside his chest pocket. The visions of the Fallen Stone—whether real or illusion—struck him like an invisible whip, lashing at his nerves. Every moment of delay made him feel that his sister's predicament (or at least what he believed to be her predicament) grew even more perilous. He yearned to press forward, to immediately traverse this barren land and reach the fabled forbidden forest.
"We should move quickly," he finally broke the silence, his voice taut with cold and tension, "For if the light of dawn breaks through, we'll be much easier to spot."
Thalia Nightsong stood with her back to the morning light atop a slightly elevated rock, gazing eastward. Her silhouette, outlined by the feeble, ascending sunlight, was blurred into a vague contour, and her dark travel attire allowed her almost to merge with the shadows of the wasteland. Hearing Raine's words, she slowly turned, her ice-blue eyes appearing especially profound in the pale dawn, as if harboring secrets even deeper than the night sky. She did not immediately respond to Raine's urging; instead, her gaze lingered on him for a moment—filled with an enigmatic scrutiny that combined curiosity about his rare Starborne blood with an ingrained wariness.
"Haste makes waste, young man," she said in a steady voice, with a calm that belied her age, "This wasteland is not an easy path. It is more important to conserve your strength and proceed with caution than to blindly charge into the unknown."
Karrion Anvil was crouched on the ground, meticulously polishing his massive battle-axe with a rough cloth. The blade reflected a cold, hard gleam in the dim light. He looked up, grinning with a set of uneven teeth in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Hey, kid, don't be in such a rush like a goblin with its behind on fire. Thalia is right. Besides, setting off on an empty stomach is like a dwarf without a beard—always missing something. Who wants to try my prized hard bread? It'll knock a rabbit senseless and fill your belly, provided your teeth are up to it."
His ill-timed quip did little to dissolve the awkward silence in the chill air. Raine frowned but said nothing. Thalia merely turned her head slightly, avoiding direct eye contact with Karrion.
The discussion about the route and initial supplies soon revealed subtle disagreements among them. Raine preferred a straight path, aiming to shorten the time to reach the Blightwood. Karrion, drawing upon his extensive outdoor experience, suggested a longer, more winding route that would avoid several known danger zones (such as valleys frequented by bandits and a small patch of marsh) and emphasized the need to search for reliable water sources along the way. Thalia seemed indifferent to the precise route itself; however, she insisted on avoiding any area that might bear traces of magical residue, even if it meant taking a longer detour. Her reasons were vague—she merely stated it was to "avoid unnecessary trouble."
Ultimately, under Karrion's insistence and Thalia's unwavering stance, Raine reluctantly conceded to the longer and more circuitous route. His inner agitation did not subside; rather, the intangible restraint only deepened his gloom. He looked at Thalia's receding silhouette—the mysterious witch who had shrouded herself in enigma from her first appearance, someone who seemingly knew much but guarded every secret. What exactly was her aim? Did she covet his Starborne blood, or... something else?
Their brief rest soon ended as they resumed their journey, and this time the atmosphere was even more subdued. Each of them harbored heavy thoughts, and an invisible rift gradually crept between the three.
The land they traversed was a microcosm of Etheria's decayed state. Once-fertile fields had long been abandoned, leaving only cracked earth and withered crop roots—like scars upon the land. Along the roads, sparse, twisted trees reached towards a gray, overcast sky; their leaves, curled and yellowed, silently told the tale of dying life. The air was filled with a faint odor—a blend of dust and rotting vegetation—and occasionally, a breeze would carry a trace of a nauseating sweetness—a foreboding scent emanating from the edge of the corrupted forest, like an ominous omen reminding them of their destination.
Karrion led the way, his stout dwarf frame remarkably steady, each step taken with certainty—a testament to the innate survival talents of his kind. He could deduce animal tracks from the faintest traces, determine whether the animals were aggressive; he could find hidden drips of water from rock crevices that were barely drinkable; and from what appeared to be dead bushes, he could even unearth tubers that might provide some sustenance, albeit unappetizing.
"Look here," he said, pointing to a faint trail of hoofprints on the ground, "that's from some antelopes—perhaps three or five of them, stamped through just a few hours ago. They didn't bring along any young; they ran fast—not as if they were foraging, but rather fleeing for their lives." Frowning, he sniffed the air, "The wind's not carrying any scent of blood... strange."
Thalia, ever sensitive to magical traces in the environment, often paused to gaze into seemingly empty air or touch an unremarkable stone. Her fingers grazed along the nearly invisible flows of energy, and her ice-blue eyes shone with focused intensity.
"The elemental currents here are extremely chaotic," she once whispered beside a dried-up stream, almost to herself, "as if all the life force has been forcibly drained away, leaving only a thin layer of resentment and... hunger."
Raine trailed silently behind, listening to Karrion's explanations and watching Thalia's movements. His questions mounted and his anxiety grew. Clutching his sword's hilt, he tried to focus on the path beneath him and the surrounding environment. He knew he was the least experienced in battle and wilderness survival among the three, and he could ill afford to hold them back. The talisman on his chest continued to emit a faint, cool sensation, as if constantly reminding him to remain vigilant.
Just as the sun climbed high yet remained subdued by thick clouds that cast a dim white light, danger struck unexpectedly.
They were traversing a relatively dense deadwood forest, with giant weathered boulders scattered among the trees. Suddenly, a teeth-grating, ferocious howl shattered the silence of the wasteland.
"Alert!" Karrion roared, instantly raising his battle-axe. His stout form stood like a fortress between Raine and Thalia.
In a flash, several tawny-brown shadows darted out from behind the rocks and pounced at them. They resembled hyenas in form, but were unusually large—almost reaching Raine's waist. Their fur was dirty and unkempt, their eyes glimmered with a frenzied red, and their mouths dripped saliva, revealing uneven, unusually sharp fangs. Though they showed no obvious signs of corruption—no dripping black fluids or twisted limbs—the sheer, raw ferocity born of extreme hunger was more direct and savage than that of low-level corrupted creatures.
"Damn these wasteland wolves!" Karrion cursed, "It seems even they can't find enough to eat around here!"
The battle erupted in an instant—brief and chaotic.
These mutated, starving wolves, clearly driven to desperation, attacked with wild abandon. Their target was unmistakably these three seemingly feeble "prey."
Raine unsheathed his sword, his heart pounding. He tried to recall the sword techniques taught by his family, but in the face of these swift, relentless predators, the elegant moves appeared utterly ineffectual. He thrust his sword, only to have a wolf deftly evade, nearly knocking him down. Fortunately, Karrion's timely blow with his heavy axe on the wolf's side sent it flying.
"Kid! Don't just stand there! Use that stick of yours—your sword—to jab into their eyes or throats!" Karrion bellowed as he swung his massive axe, forcing back two wolves trying to close in, his booming combat style filled with raw power and each swing accompanied by the rush of wind, keeping the wolves at bay. He served as an unyielding bulwark, steadfast and reliable.
Thalia's combat style was entirely different—almost eerie. She did not engage head-on like Karrion but rather maneuvered like a phantom among the wolves. Her figure blurred in and out of sight, as if she were one with the shifting light and shadow. Her dagger, as lethal as the fangs of a venomous serpent, always struck at the most vulnerable joints or necks of the wolves with precision. At times, she would even release a small pinch of an unknown powder from her fingers, causing the wolves to momentarily falter or even viciously attack one another. Her movements were swift and efficient, carrying an icy, almost cruel beauty that sent shivers down one's spine.
Raine gritted his teeth, struggling to overcome his inner fear and panic. He no longer attempted to perform full sword forms but emulated Karrion's advice—using the length of his sword to quickly stab or parry at the wolves' vital points. Though still clumsy and almost getting injured several times, under the combined cover of Karrion's heavy blows and Thalia's agile kills, the battle soon drew to a close.
The last wolf let out one final, reluctant wail before falling beneath Thalia's dagger.
Silence returned to the forest, broken only by their ragged breaths and the thick scent of blood. On the ground lay the corpses of five or six wolves, their blood soaking into the withered, yellowed grass.
Raine leaned on his sword, staring at the scene; his stomach churned. It was his first true brush with mortal combat—a fight far more brutal and chaotic than he had ever imagined. He glanced at Karrion, who although slightly winded, remained as steadfast as ever, checking his axe for any damage. Then his gaze shifted to Thalia.
The witch stood beside a wolf carcass, wiping the blood from her dagger with a cloth. Her face, under the dim light, appeared somewhat pale, and her breathing had quickened slightly, yet her expression remained as calm as a still pool. The eerie grace and relentless efficacy of her killing style left Raine with a disconcerting sense of distance and... unease. Who exactly was she? The ability to merge with shadows and her use of bizarre powders—were these truly the powers of an ordinary "Shadow Witch"?
Thalia seemed to sense his gaze and raised her eyes to meet his. In her ice-blue eyes, Raine saw no emotion—only a bottomless chill. He opened his mouth as if to ask something, but in the end, he only withdrew his gaze and began checking himself for any new wounds.
This brief and chaotic battle, while forcing them into an initial coordination, also exposed their differences more clearly and deepened the mounting doubts and suspicions within Raine's heart.
As night fell, the temperature over the wasteland plummeted. The howling wind sliced through the deadwood forest, producing a mournful sound. The three of them found a relatively flat clearing behind a windswept rock wall and built a small campfire. The flickering flames dispelled some of the chill, but they could not dissolve the subtle, tense atmosphere between them.
Karrion sat by the fire, taking out his whetstone and carefully honing his battle-axe, producing a steady "shh-shh" sound. He seemed completely absorbed in his own world, indifferent to the surrounding silence, but Raine knew well that beneath that rough exterior lay a meticulous mind—he was certainly observing everything.
Thalia leaned against the rock wall, with her small leather pouch of various materials resting on her knees. She was cleaning the bloodstains off her dagger with an unknown liquid. The dancing light of the fire cast shifting shadows on her pale side profile, making her appear even more enigmatic.
Raine stared at the flickering flames for a long while before finally breaking the silence.
"Thalia," he said, trying to sound calm, "about that Fallen Stone… why did you attack me earlier? What does it mean to you—or to someone like you?"
Thalia paused in her cleaning, but did not look up. The firelight fell on her lowered lashes, casting a shadow. "I have said it before—the stone contains a special power. For some, it is both a key and a curse," she said softly, as if her words might be blown away by the wind, "I simply… do not want it to fall into the wrong hands."
"Wrong hands? You mean like mine?" Raine pressed, his tone tinged with a barely perceptible hurt and caution.
At last, Thalia raised her head, her ice-blue eyes flickering with a complex light in the fire's glow. She did not answer directly, but instead shifted the topic toward him. "Raine Dawnstar... the Dawnstar family. An ancient and... unfortunate name. How much do you really understand about your family's history, about the essence that flows within your blood?"
Her question was like a precisely cut key, instantly pricking the most sensitive part of Raine's heart. The downfall of his family, the sparse yet undeniable Starborne blood in him, and the blurred memories of his inheritance… these were enigmas he had always dared not explore too deeply.
"I..." Raine was at a loss for words. He realized he knew little of these matters, or rather, what he did know might only be the tip of the iceberg—or even a façade deliberately hidden. "I only know that my family... once were Starborne nobles, and then we fell. As for the blood... I only know it has brought me some... troubles." He hesitated, gesturing vaguely toward his head, hinting at the unstable precognition and its inevitable backlash.
Thalia stared at him silently, her eyes piercing as if trying to look right into the secrets of his soul. "Troubles? Perhaps. But the gifts of the stars have never come without a price." Her words carried an ancient, fated resonance, "Some bloodlines are destined to bear responsibilities and... curses beyond what common people can imagine."
Her gaze returned to her dagger, and her tone resumed its previous flat quality with a trace of subtle probing, "The vision you saw, about your sister… are you sure that is the whole truth?"
Raine's heart sank abruptly. Thalia's words pierced the fragile bubble of hope he had forced himself to maintain. He recalled the cool touch of Karrion's talisman, the faint unease deep in his soul.
At that moment, a sudden chill surged up his spine—not merely from the low temperature of the night, but a deeper, internal frost. He felt as if countless unseen eyes were watching them from the darkness, filled with malice and... hunger. The firelight flickered in response, and the surrounding darkness deepened, as if something lurked at the edge of the shadows, restless and eager.
He quickly turned his head to survey his surroundings, but apart from the howling wind and the swaying silhouettes of bare branches, there was nothing.
"What's wrong?" Karrion, having ceased sharpening his axe, asked warily.
"Nothing..." Raine shook his head, trying to dispel that ominous premonition. It came and went swiftly, as if it were a broken dream—indecipherable, yet leaving a lingering shadow of ice in his heart.
He looked once more at Thalia. The witch still kept her head down, focused on cleaning her dagger as if the earlier conversation and his own disquiet were of no concern to her. Yet Raine felt that she might know something—something about him, about the future, about the secrets hidden within this perilous wasteland and the forbidden land they were about to enter.
The crackling of the fire projected their elongated, distorted shadows onto the cold rock wall, as if foretelling an ominous portent. The night on the wasteland was long and frigid, filled with unknown dangers and underlying tension and unease. Their journey had only just begun, yet the trust among them wavered like a flickering candle in the wind. And in the distance, the corruption-laden forest, like a slumbering beast ready to devour all light, waited silently for their arrival.