Their path veered parallel to the direction they came from, leaving the mesmerizing dunes behind. The landscape subtly transformed as they ventured forward, the golden waves of sand gradually giving way to an ethereal forest, its verdant greenery infused with a sprinkle of golden dust.

  The land here was flat, the harsh desert sands less prominent, replaced by occasional gentle glimmers in the air. They had skirted the denser thickets for as long as possible, but Buren eventually decided that they could no longer avoid the direct route through the forest.

  "...and that is how the Valley of Hungry Boars came to be known as such," Evangeline concluded, her voice hoarse from hours of sharing ancient tales. The novices had been eagerly documenting every word, their pencils scratching diligently against parchment. A growing pile of papers filled with her recollections lay at their feet.

  "Splendid!" Faelun exclaimed, a gleam of scholarly delight in his eyes. "Now, the next legend I'm interested in is--"

  "No more," Evangeline interrupted, taking a long sip of water to soothe her dry throat. "I have been speaking for hours. I think this people is better forgotten, anyway. We wouldn't want people trying to follow their example."

  "Nonsense!" Faelun protested. "It is important to detail everything, while the memories are still fresh in your mind."

  Her eyes sparkled with a defiant glint as she retorted, "You're going to have to beat it out of me if you want more," her hands nonchalantly settling on the hilts of her blades. Faelun harrumphed in response, looking momentarily taken aback.

  "We still on the right track?" Torvald called from the front.

  "I think so," she replied, her gaze scanning the altered landscape. "The lay of land has changed from when he last saw it, but it should be this way."

  As the wagon rumbled onwards, Evangeline, her thirst now quenched and free from the scholarly interrogation of Faelun, navigated her way through the raucous wagon to join Buren. Their companions, in high spirits from the day's journey, were bickering and joking amongst themselves, as usual, their volume increasing as the distance they passed increased.

  Once certain that they were sufficiently engrossed in their own conversations, Evangeline turned to Buren. "Your dreams must be something else for a grown man, someone who has seen countless lifetimes, to become as disturbed and unhinged as he did," she said quietly.

  Buren's gaze remained unyielding, affixed to the landscape beyond.

  "How could you be so sure it would put him off-balance long enough for me to repeat the ritual?"

  After a moment of silence, he finally responded. "It took me a while to be able to withstand them myself," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper against the soft wind. "For him, he would experience all of it at once, and the memories of those experiences are so vivid in my mind I knew they would make an impression."

  Her eyes flickered with curiosity, skepticism perhaps. "Still, it doesn't seem like you to gamble everything on one card," she observed.

  He paused, considering his words carefully before speaking. "That was not the only outcome I thought might happen. The other option was that he was strong enough to bear the visions, and the knowledge of what is to come. In that case, he would have no choice but to dedicate himself to stopping it, as he would know as well as I do there is no future for any of us if these things are not stopped. With his knowledge of ancient magic of his people, and the Gauntlet, he might have been a better champion than myself."

  Surprise registered in her eyes. "You would have given your own body for someone else to puppet, if that saved the realm?" She asked, incredulous.

  "It would have been for the best of all," he said, his tone unyielding.

  Her expression softened, admiration mingling with a touch of disbelief. "Well, that is just pointless speculation at this point, as you have shown yourself to be the stronger one," she finally conceded. Buren nodded silently.

  "Unfortunately."

  "Thank you for this talk," she said after a moment, "I now understand you better. Although I must say I'm still not convinced you're not crazy: the more likely explanation of events is still that what you fight against are just delusions, and your madness just caught on to him."

  Buren simply shrugged. "I guess only time will tell," he thought.

  Their journey took them deeper into the heart of the ethereal forest. Each member of their party seemed to be in a state of wonder, their eyes wide as they beheld the unique beauty of their surroundings.

  The flora of the forest was like no other, etched by the telltale marks of the divide. The plants had a translucence to them, which gave them a luminescent glow that softly lit the forest floor. Every stem, every leaf, was elongated and slender, with curious seams or tears running along their length. These fractures shimmered with an iridescent play of colors, shifting and swirling in an entrancing dance of light.

  Towering above them, the trees were tall and slender, their branches heavy with thin, elongated leaves that swayed gently in the soft breeze. The trunks of the trees were sheer, almost glass-like, and one could see their glowing, pulsating life within. The undergrowth was thick with glowing bushes and smaller plants, all marked by the same beautiful characteristics, seeming like they were spun from living, iridescent silk.

  Amidst this luminescent vegetation, delicate creatures fluttered about. They spotted butterflies, their wings shining as if adorned with a multitude of precious stones. Beetles crawled, their carapaces gleaming with radiant, shifting hues. A myriad of insects painted a magical canvas of iridescent colors in this living, pulsating masterpiece of nature.

  "A real enchanted forest," Cadoc breathed in awe. Everywhere they looked, there was a breathtaking display of natural wonder, each sight more astonishing than the last. Some of the plants even seemed to change color as they looked, their hues shifting from one to another in an enchanting dance.

  Various flowers dotted the landscape, their petals radiating a soft, enchanting glow. The blooms took the shape of fantastic, dream-like designs - stars, spirals, and complex fractals. The colors were as varied as they were vibrant, painting a breathtaking spectrum against the backdrop of the glowing forest.

  "Smell that air," Emeric remarked, drawing their attention to an alluring fragrance that filled the air. It was sweet and intoxicating, yet subtle, like a perfect blend of floral notes and exotic spices.

  Drawn by the scent, Torvald changed their course without asking. "Yes, let's go check it out," Evangeline agreed, her words slurring slightly. None of the others disagreed. Yet, in the back of Buren's mind, a faint sense of warning lingered. It seemed distant, as if muffled by a layer of soft cotton, dulled by the beauty and allure of their surroundings.

  Arriving at a clearing, their attention was captivated by a solitary, majestic tree. The grandeur of the tree was awe-inspiring, its towering form swaying gently, independent of the wind. Its trunk was a wonder to behold, a prism reflecting their own faces, the translucent depths imbued with a magical luminescence. Its long, sweeping branches were filled with an array of vibrant, shimmering leaves that cast multicolored rainbows in the sunlight.

  The tree was laden with blooms, flowers of every color, shape, and size imaginable, their ethereal glow painting the clearing with their luminescence. The intoxicating fragrance that had drawn them here seemed to emanate from these flowers.

  Almost entranced, they dismounted from the wagon, approaching the tree with a sense of reverence. "Marvelous," Faelun exclaimed, his voice heavy with awe. He stumbled as he walked, the uneven terrain catching him off guard. Falling to the ground, he seemed unbothered by his fall, and simply continued his approach by crawling towards the tree.

  Torvald, reaching the tree first, tentatively placed his palm on the trunk. "It's so warm, and oddly soft," he said, his voice hushed. As if in response to his touch, the surface of the tree rippled like water, and a hand emerged from the trunk. The hand was as translucent as the tree, glowing softly, and it gently covered Torvald's own hand.

  They all watched, mesmerized by the scene unfolding before them. There was no sense of fear, just curiosity and wonder. From the tree stepped a being of captivating beauty. The dryad was a vision of ethereal elegance, her form as translucent and iridescent as the tree. Her long, shimmering hair flowed like liquid light around her shoulders, and the marks of the Rupture that ran across her body seemed to accentuate her beauty rather than detract from it. Her eyes were black, deep and unfathomable, reminiscent of a bottomless abyss.

  She smiled at them, revealing perfect teeth, her smile a beacon of serenity. Her naked form held no sense of impropriety, for she was as natural and as beautiful as the flora surrounding them.

  A serene smile stretched across Torvald's face as the first dryad traced her ethereal fingers around his rugged face and chest. His eyes, normally so alert and sharp, were soft and dreamy under her touch. More dryads emerged from the tree, a parade of iridescent beauty stepping into the clearing. One by one, the members of their troupe were drawn to them, their eyes glazed and expressions peaceful, as if they were sleepwalking through a pleasant dream.

  Buren stood apart, a lone figure against this idyllic spectacle. A nagging sense of unease had been gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. "Something is not correct here," he thought, fighting the languid pull that seemed to be muddling his senses. His mind groped for clarity through a fog of confusion, each thought as sluggish as if moving through thick molasses.

  Then, like a thunderclap, realization struck. "Lotus!" The name echoed in his mind. His state was reminiscent of the stupor induced by consuming black lotus. His eyes darted to the tree. Concentrating, he could see the thick pollen swirling around them, exuding a heady fragrance that pervaded the air and entered their lungs with every breath.

  "The rest are completely under its influence," he noted, watching his companions yield to the dryads' beguiling charm. He had tasted the black lotus enough to have developed a tolerance to its effects, and the mechanism of the pollen must have been similar enough for him to see through the illusion woven by the forest.

  When the dryads turned their attention to him, Buren recoiled instinctively. Their mouths were still curled in warm smiles, but the black depths of their eyes hold no emotion at all. He took a wary step back, eliciting surprise from the creatures. Their faces contorted into grotesque sneers, revealing jagged teeth within unnaturally wide maws.

  Buren assumed a combat stance, his senses blurred by the residual influence of the pollen. His world swayed around him, and his vision began to dim, but the Gauntlet remained steady, a rock in the tumultuous sea of his wavering consciousness. The surrounding plants transformed, their once inviting colors morphing into an ominous palette of black, sickly green, and dark red. Their branches and stalks lurched towards him like arms, reaching out to ensnare him.

  Roots burst from the ground, winding themselves around his legs, but Buren lashed out with the talons of the Gauntlet, severing their grasp. "I'm not ready for this," he thought, using the Gauntlet to generate momentum to lunge away. It propelled him into a nearby tree, from where he swung deeper into the forest, leaving the dryads frozen in surprise behind him. The sudden reversal of the situation left his addled mind conflicted: a paradise lost, a dream turned into a nightmare. But for now, he had evaded their trap.

  Buren took stock of his surroundings from his temporary perch on a sturdy branch. However, his respite was short-lived. Sensing his presence, the tree's branches twisted towards him like a nest of serpents. With a graceless leap, he tumbled from his vantage point. A well-timed thrust from the Gauntlet softened his landing, the only thing sparing him some broken bones.

  In the silence of his solitude, Buren assessed his situation with grim realism. "I'm hopelessly outmatched as long as we stay in the forest under their influence," he thought, his heart heavy with the enormity of the task at hand. The faces of Evangeline and the rest flashed in his mind. "But I can't leave them. Without them, there's no ritual."

  With determination spurring him, Buren delved deeper into the forest, praying the dryads would be content with the prey they had ensnared. His breath sounded loud in his ears as he pushed himself to keep moving. After a strenuous few minutes, the rustling in the surrounding flora diminished. The dryads, it seemed, had focused their attention elsewhere.

  Still, Buren pressed on, widening the gap between them. When he finally stopped, he pulled out a pouch of red lotus dust from his cloak, the crimson powder contrasting against the iridescent foliage. A glimmer of hope sparked in his mind. "If the effect of the pollen is like the black lotus, then perhaps it can also be counteracted with red lotus."

  He paused in thought, weighing the risk of his new strategy. He would have to administer the red lotus to his companions, a task easier said than done. "Head-on attack is too risky," he considered. "I'm going to have to try and sneak in."

  With a new plan in mind, Buren scaled a tree, using its height to get a lay of the land. From his elevated position, he could make out the expanse of the forest, the cluster of trees, and the general direction towards the clearing. He charted a circuitous path, one that would take him back to the clearing from a different direction. As the forest lay still around him, he held on to the pouch of red lotus, his only hope in this ethereal prison, and began his cautious trek back.

  As the forest succumbed to darkness, Buren settled into the shadows. He remembered the words of Azure, her knowledge of the Dryads now providing him with invaluable insight. They could hide within the trees, but that would provide them with no special senses. Unless they possessed night vision - a trait that varied among the species - Buren stood a better chance of infiltrating their hold during the shroud of the night.

  And the night offered another advantage. As the enchanted plants of the forest entered their nocturnal respite, the Dryads too would be in a more restful state. He only hoped the rules of nature that applied to other Dryads would apply to these Rupture-altered beings.

  He moved through the forest under the veil of darkness, the orchestra of bizarre calls echoing around him. Strange creatures, unseen in the night, communicated in their own peculiar languages, creating an eerie accompaniment to his mission.

  At last, he reached the clearing. Keeping to the edge of the forest, he dared not to step out into the open, where the watchful eyes of hidden sentinels could spot him. Instead, he circled the clearing, his eyes trained on the ground for any signs of his companions.

  Soon enough, he found what he was looking for. The tracks of clumsy, staggering footsteps, imprints of horse hooves, and the distinct marks left by the wagon. The path was far from subtle, telling tales of a group under the influence, their movements void of the usual grace and precision.

  He followed the trail, his every move calculated and careful. In the distance, the grand tree loomed, its silhouette cutting a formidable figure against the starlit sky. Each step took him closer, deeper into the jaws of danger.

  Buren felt the changes in the environment as he ventured deeper into the woods. It was as if the flora was transforming before his very eyes, becoming increasingly alien and distorted. The regularity and rhythm of a natural forest gradually faded, replaced by a grotesque display of nature gone awry.

  Without warning, a figure materialized from a nearby tree, causing him to prepare for combat. However, the figure remained still, its shape bizarrely human. Upon closer inspection, it was not a figure at all, but merely protuberances of the tree trunk that happened to resemble a human form.

  But Buren realized even his second evaluation had been wrong. It wasn't just a coincidental arrangement of shapes; it was an uncanny, detailed replication of a human figure, as if a man was enveloped within the tree, shrouded under a thick blanket of bark.

  Glancing around, he realized that the spectacle was not limited to one tree. Translucent hands reaching out from trunks, faces frozen in silent screams, and ambiguous human figures were embedded into the very essence of the surrounding trees. Curiosity piqued, he ran his claws along the bark that covered a face, and to his surprise, the covering peeled away to reveal the dry and shriveled remains of a human head. It sent a chill down his spine. His mind darted back to his companions, and a shudder of dread coursed through him.

  The further he ventured, the more pervasive and extreme the corruption of the flora became. The distinction between individual plants blurred, morphing into an interconnected mass of pulsating, multicolored growths. Long, branch-like appendages stretched out, connecting one formation to another, while the ground teemed with a network of writhing roots.

  "It's like the original forest has melted into these unnatural masses that connect haphazardly," he thought, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "And now what is left is trying to spread, driven by some malevolent force."

  The image called to his mind the shambling, decomposed hordes of the Malignant one, rotten bodies packed so against one another as they marched on, driven by intelligence not of their own. He had come upon the floral equivalent of an undead army.

  This chaotic garden of horrors seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting in an unnatural rhythm. It was a living, breathing embodiment of the corruption brought about by the Rupture. And he was deep within its heart.

  The air was thick with an unsettling quietude when a faint disturbance caught Buren's attention. Concealed behind the convoluted flora, he watched as Faelun was passively dragged by serpentine roots, a Dryad watching over the process. Faelun's soft groans punctuated the silence, yet he seemed to be in a dreamlike state, unresponsive to his predicament.

  Buren shadowed them, carefully maneuvering through the bizarre undergrowth, ensuring he remained unseen. They halted at a spot adorned with a multitude of sapling-like protrusions reaching upwards.

  With a malicious grin, the Dryad revealed her elongated, sharp teeth. Her fingers contorted grotesquely, tendons straining against her ethereal skin, and the surrounding vegetation reacted in kind. Vines twined around Faelun's limbs, tightening their grip. As the Dryad spread her arms wide, the vine-like tendrils pulled taut, initiating a horrific tug-of-war with Faelun at the center.

  In a split second, Buren burst into action. His heart pounded as he closed the distance between them, careful to remain as silent as possible. However, his foot brushed against a writhing tendril, alerting the Dryad of his presence. She swiveled around with a snarl, but it was too late. The Gauntlet connected with her face, sending her sprawling onto the corrupted earth, her control over the plants subsiding.

  Her blood, an unnaturally deep green, soaked into the earth as Buren hastened to free Faelun from his organic restraints. He carved through the constricting tendrils with his talons, before carefully administering the red lotus dust into Faelun's mouth, washing it down with a small flask of water he carried.

  Faelun swallowed the red lotus concoction with ease. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he licked them. For a heartbeat, he lay still, then his eyes suddenly snapped open and his body convulsed into a sitting position. He looked around in a start, his face turning a vivid shade of red.

  "Whoo-eee!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "This place is a nightmare! How did I miss that? Buren, lad, we've got to get the others out of here."

  Buren, observing the transformation, allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction. "Seems the lotus did the trick," he thought.

  Faelun continued, his voice shaking, "They must have enchanted us. It was like my mind was foggy, accepting everything I saw without question. We just...followed those Dryads, oblivious to the danger."

  "Where are the rest?" Buren asked.

  "Further into the grove," Faelun replied, his tone grave. "From what I saw, it looks like they're being used as some kind of nourishment for the plants. I suppose they deemed me as having little nutritional value, hence the idea to use me as fertilizer instead." His face twisted in indignation, shaking a clenched fist at the heavens. "I swear, if they bury me, I'll poison the soil with sheer spite so that nothing ever grows again!"

  Buren carefully considered his next move. The thought of leaving Faelun alone in this corrupted wilderness gave him a stop. Alone, the old man would be too vulnerable, and would likely be discovered and subjected to the same fate they were trying to avoid. Decision made, Buren motioned for Faelun to follow him.

  Powered by the red lotus, Faelun moved with surprising agility, despite the difficult terrain, but Buren still found himself needing to guide the older man through the deceptive undergrowth, helping him navigate the convoluted web of tendrils.

  As they tread on the writhing roots and pushed past the intricate, web-like tendrils connecting the misshapen plant formations, he could not help but rustle the dense, vegetative network.

  "I have to rely on the Dryads being engrossed in whatever they're doing," Buren thought, hoping his intrusion would go unnoticed. His left hand remained instinctively on the hilt of his sword, ready for any sudden danger.

  They moved quietly and carefully, remaining unnoticed. It felt as if they were infiltrating the belly of a massive, living, breathing beast.

  They reached the center of the Dryad's grove, a grotesque shrine of twisting plant life that seemed to be both alive and diseased. The site was an abhorrent testament to the corruption brought about by the Rupture.

  A visceral, colossal entity took center stage, its grotesque pulsations and rhythmic swaying marking it as more than some vegetation, but also as something less. Every root and vine in sight seemed to feed into this monstrous plant, hinting at the interconnectedness of this corrupted eco-system. If he had not seen the gradual degeneration of the flora as they neared this epicenter, he would have never guessed the thing had a botanical origin. It stood rooted to the ground, but that was where the similarities to any tree he had ever seen ended.

  The structure had an eerie resemblance to an organism diseased and degenerate, with bulging protrusions periodically rupturing to release a cloud of spores into the air. It appeared as much a product of the Rupture as the Dryads themselves.

  Buren's comrades stood around this monstrous formation, their bodies naked and adorned with vibrant, plant-derived colors. The Dryads conversed among themselves, communicating in an alien cacophony of clicks and screeches.

  Without warning, one of the Dryads guided Cadoc towards the towering monstrosity. He went willingly, a trance-like expression etched on his face. As they approached, the creature responded, unfurling tendrils that reached out to gently ensnare Cadoc. Like tendrils of affection, they hoisted him aloft and drew him towards the monstrous bloom. Upon contact, the creature seemed to almost inhale him, absorbing Cadoc into its amorphous form. His body vanished within the pulsating mass, leaving only the echo of his vacant stare in Buren's mind.

  Buren could see the second Dryad leading Emeric to the pulsating heart of the grove. The sight fueled his determination, and he quickly handed Faelun the pouch of red lotus. "I'll draw the Dryad's attention, and you move ahead and make them swallow this, and it will break the spell," Buren instructed in a hushed tone.

  Faelun took the pouch, a determined glint in his eyes. "Don't pull your punches, lad," he advised Buren. With that, Buren was off, a lethal predator ready to strike.

  Summoning his power, he wound the Gauntlet around and used its momentum to catapult himself off the hillock they'd been hiding behind. He soared through the air, the wind whistling in his ears. His target was the Dryad holding Emeric, and he came down upon her like a thunderbolt, crushing her beneath his weight.

  The Dryad fell with a strangled gasp, her form crushed under Buren's boots. Wasting no time, he reached down and shoved a handful of the red lotus extract into Emeric's mouth. The man jerked violently, inhaling sharply as if he'd just been plunged into icy water. He spun around, a hand instinctively reaching to cover his nudity, before his gaze fell on the Dryads closing in, their snarls echoing ominously in the deformed grove. Emeric took in the horrific scene around him, from the pulsating mass of corruption to his ensnared teammates. He turned to Buren, his expression surprisingly calm under the circumstances. "So, I see we have a situation," he deadpanned.

  Buren tossed him another pouch of the red lotus. "Get this in their mouths. I'll hold them off." He then glanced back at Faelun, who was making his way down the incline at a frustratingly slow pace. The old man seemed on the verge of collapsing, but then he pulled out a pouch of his own and swallowed more of the red lotus. Buren watched as Faelun's body straightened, his energy returning. Then, to Buren's disbelief, he began to run, a wide grin spreading across his bearded face. "Somebody's going to be sore in the morning," Buren thought in passing.

  Buren's quickly focused his attention back on the encroaching Dryads. Their roots began to rise from the ground, shooting towards him like serpents ready to strike.

  Seeing one of the Dryads break off to intercept Emeric, Buren sprang into action. With a fluid motion, he plucked a throwing dagger from beneath his cloak. His grip on the Gauntlet was firm, the pulse of its power coursing through his veins. In a heartbeat, the dagger took flight, whistling through the air to lodge deep in the side of the Dryad's skull.

  Her body collapsed onto the pulsating undergrowth, a screech of horror and pain echoing throughout the corrupted grove. The Dryads' subsequent cries were a cacophony of terror and rage. A shiver of revulsion swept through Buren as he watched the ground roots tenderly envelop their fallen sister, holding her like a lover. The expressions on the remaining Dryads' faces morphed into grotesque smiles, twisted with malevolence.

  Meanwhile, the gargantuan growth at the center of the grove pulsed more vehemently. Within its grotesque confines, Buren could see Cadoc writhing in pain. His face was being drained of color, his body shriveling as if all fluids were being sucked out of him. The roots branching off the monstrous growth and leading to the fallen Dryad swelled, reminiscent of a hose filling with water. They seemed to transmit some form of life force back to her.

  With a gasping breath, the downed Dryad suddenly stirred. Her hand shot up, fingers closing around the hilt of the embedded dagger. In one swift, brutal motion, she yanked it from her skull, then staggered back to her feet. Her sisters greeted her revival with gleeful applause, their horrifying laughter a chilling melody in the nightmarish grove.

  Buren's gaze shifted back to Cadoc, now lifeless and limp within the throbbing growth. He realized the terrifying truth; he needed to free his friend first before he could defeat the Dryads. But as the malevolent forest maidens closed in on him, that task seemed increasingly daunting. "Easier said than done," he thought.

  Whirling, Buren launched himself up the towering mass, digging the Gauntlet into its soft, yielding surface. As he carved his path towards Cadoc, the growth shuddered in response, violently ejecting him with a burst of branch-like protrusions.

  He hit the ground rolling, immediately pushing himself back to his feet as a Dryad hurtled towards him. Poison dripped from the deadly claws extending from her fingertips. He deflected her strike, but held back from retaliating, his mind whirling with a grim realization. He could easily destroy them, but at what cost to Cadoc?

  He frowned deeply, watching as more Dryads began to close in. His retreat gave him a moment to take in the scene unfolding nearby. Faelun and Emeric had managed to revive Torvald and Elwin, but the Dryads had unleashed Evangeline upon them.

  Yet, in her drugged state, Evangeline proved to be more of a nuisance than a threat. Faelun forced the red lotus concoction down her throat as Emeric restrained her. Her body shuddered violently as the sedative wore off, then she looked at them with a grudgingly impressed expression.

  "It's good I was sedated, otherwise you guys would have had no chance," she said, a bit breathlessly.

  "Yeah, right," Emeric retorted, looking somewhat relieved as he released her. "Go take out your anger on them, not me."

  With a shared nod, they turned back towards the Dryads, their resolve hardened. Buren watched them for a moment longer, then squared his shoulders, preparing himself for the next onslaught.

  "I think our gear was left there," Evangeline said, pointing at the edge of the area. There, constricted by vines and roots, was their wagon, as well as their horses, which seem to have exhausted themselves struggling against their binds.

  "What are we waiting for, then?" He turned to Evangeline. "You distract them while we gear up, as you seem to be doing quite well without your equipment."

  He smiled lasciviously, and eyed her up and down. "Besides, it's good for team morale."

  "I'll deal with you later," Evangeline growled, and broke into a run towards the wagon.

  The rest of the team moved in her wake, weaving their way through the corrupted plant life towards the wagon.

  In the midst of the melee, Buren danced with death. The Dryads seemed torn between chasing after the fleeing team and trying to put him down. Using their hesitation to his advantage, he pressed the attack, feigning strikes to keep their attention firmly focused on him. It was a risky gamble, but it seemed to be working.

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  Yet, even as he bought his team precious time, a cold knot of dread settled in his stomach. The Dryad he had attacked initially had fresh strands snaking towards her from the central mass. He couldn't afford to let Cadoc's vitality be drained again.

  With a furious roar, Buren launched himself at the strands. His blade cut through them like they were made of paper, the severed tendrils twitching violently as they sprayed a viscous fluid. More tendrils erupted from the mass in response, reaching out towards the Dryad with a sickening hunger.

  He barely had time to block the incoming attacks from the Dryads, the tips of their claws scraping against his blade. As he fell back, he coughed, the air suddenly heavy and suffocating. A glance towards the central mass revealed the source: boils had ruptured across its surface, spewing out a noxious fume that hung heavily in the air. It stung his eyes, made his throat raw. Yet, the Dryads seemed unaffected.

  "What's our next move?" Buren heard Emeric call. He saw Evangeline and Emeric had donned their equipment in record time and are closing in. Even as they approached, Elwin, Torvald, and the invigorated Faelun were busily wrenching their entangled wagon and exhausted horses free from the vise-like grip of the predatory vines.

  "Focus on the Dryads," Buren hollered back, striving to make his words carry over the fray. "Emeric, hold their attention. Evangeline, work on the central mass. I'm going for Cadoc."

  "Aye!" they answered as one, the commands instantly understood.

  Emeric charged headlong into the Dryads' ranks, his bulky shield deflecting their venomous claws while his sword severed their underfoot tendrils that sought to trip him. A few paces away, Evangeline danced around the colossal, bulbous monstrosity, her blade darting out in quick, stinging strikes that drew its focus towards her.

  Amidst the chaos, Buren seized his opportunity. Leaping onto the monstrous growth, his talons sinking into its soft, pliant skin. A wave of fetid, saccharine stench washed over him as its surface ruptured, oozing a thick, syrupy ichor. Ignoring his rising nausea, Buren plunged his hand in, gripped Cadoc's arm, and hauled him free just as the mass began to spasm violently, sprouting writhing appendages to retaliate.

  But he was already sliding back down, using his talons to slow their descent and leaving deep, ragged trails on the mass. Reaching the ground, he signaled Emeric over and transferred the unconscious Cadoc onto the warrior's broad shoulder.

  "Time to go all out, huh?" Emeric observed, his gaze flitting to the stunned Dryads.

  Buren's answer was a decisive nod, followed by a slow, deliberate advance towards the Dryads. He marched forward, each step crushing the quivering roots underfoot, his bearing one of unmistakable challenge. The time for distractions and diversions was over.

  Buren surged forward with lethal purpose, his primal aggression channeling through his Gauntlet in a terrifying spectacle. Emeric watched, his face a canvas of mixed emotions as the fight unfolded before him; initially anticipation, then shock, and finally, a sobering understanding as Buren tore through the nearest Dryad in a whirlwind of savage fury.

  Emeric wiped away the flecks of green blood that had splattered for yards onto his face, his eyes never leaving the carnage. The brutal melee was over almost as quickly as it had begun, leaving a gory tableau in its wake.

  "Not in the mood to take prisoners, I see," Emeric said, swallowing the nausea that was building up, as Buren advanced towards him, his talons and blade glistening with the same viridian ichor.

  Buren merely circumvented him, his attention drawn to the grotesque mass at the center of the grove. He unstoppered a flask of lantern oil, dousing the pulsating trunk before setting it alight. The organism convulsed as the fire licked at it, but its own gelatinous fluids eventually snuffed out the flames.

  "Would be best to raze this whole forest to the ground," Buren mused aloud, "but we don't have the time, or resources."

  Soon, Torvald and the others rejoined them, leading their horses which moved with a weary reluctance. "Better we get out of here before they muster the nerve to try something," Torvald warned, nodding towards the edge of the grove where more Dryads were emerging.

  Emeric scoffed at the notion. "They'd be wise to stay their distance," he said, a note of bravado creeping into his tone. "After watching their sisters fall like wheat to the scythe, it would be monumentally foolish of them to cross paths with him." His thumb jerked in Buren's direction, as if to underline his point.

  "I thought you'd want to stick around," Evangeline teased, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Isn't this the 'Valley of Ferocious Women' you've been dreaming of?"

  Emeric shot back a retort, a smirk playing on his lips. "I believe these women pine well enough without my input." He waited for a laugh, but the silence was unyielding. Undeterred, he continued, his gaze drifting towards Evangeline. "Besides, my heart is already spoken for."

  Evangeline couldn't resist the opening. "I hope she's not overcharging you by the hour at whatever brothel she's employed," she quipped, before mounting the wagon with an air of finality.

  From the wagon floor, Cadoc's voice rose weakly, filled with feigned indignation. "I almost died, you know. Some heartfelt condolences or maybe even words of encouragement would be nice."

  Emeric, ever the charmer, brushed it off. "You almost die every other day, Cadoc. It's become routine. A few hearty meals and your cheeks will be back to their usual plumpness."

  Torvald chimed in next, a thoughtful look on his face. "If we stuck the Knight inside that...thing, reckon it could grow back my ear?" His tone was such that it was hard to tell whether he was joking or not.

  Faelun cut in, his words spilling out at a blistering pace. "Wearegoingtohavetotestitout." He was jittering so much his remaining teeth were chattering together audibly.

  Buren's brow furrowed, snatching the remaining lotus powder from Faelun's grasp. He found less than he expected. Evangeline cocked an eyebrow, "How much of this did you take?"

  Faelun, sweat beading on his brow, shot back a quick, "Enoughtotakemebackatleastthreedecades."

  Buren handed a bottle of water to Elwin, his voice brusque, "Keep him cooled down," and moved to the front of the wagon, ensuring his intimidating presence served as a deterrent to any lingering Dryads.

  Elwin, sighing, upended the bottle over Faelun. The water seemed to evaporate almost instantly, a testament to the heated state of the old man. They were in for an interesting ride.

  Elwin, watching the pack of feral women with apprehension, questioned aloud, "What type of Dryads are these, anyway?" The women lurked at a distance, eerily silent in their watchful vigil.

  Evangeline glanced over at him, her expression contemplative. "They've been warped by the Rupture, without a doubt," she declared. "Being in this place, it stirs my—or rather, his—memories."

  She paused, looking over the sullen crowd of Dryads once more. "The villagers of the lost settlement used to steer clear of this place. The Dryads would ensnare them with their pollen, using their mesmerized victims as nourishment for their plants. These plants, in turn, birthed more Dryads. But over time, the effects of the Rupture twisted and corrupted both the Dryads and their plants."

  Evangeline frowned, her gaze distant. "Their cognitive abilities started to deteriorate, as did the plant's formation. The grotesque sight we're witnessing is the end result of centuries of continuous degeneration."

  As she spoke, she brought a finger to her lower lip, a sign of her deep in thought. "From what I gather, the villagers would send unwanted vessels here as a kind of sacrifice. A type of truce to keep the Dryads from attacking their settlement. A forced compromise... it must have been a source of great shame for them." She finished.

  "Letmewriteitdown," Faelun burst, grabbing a quill. "TheLegendoftheValleyofFerociousWomenbyElderFaelun...Couldyourepeatthatoncemore?"

  She groaned, and dropped down on her mattress, covering her ears with her pillow.

  As they moved further from the distorted forest, they were met with a palpable sense of relief. They could breathe more easily, both figuratively when the baleful eyes of the Dryads were no longer upon them and literally as the air cleared of intoxicating fumes, although an occasional bout of dust-induced coughing reminded them they weren't entirely free from environmental trials.

  Evangeline, navigating based on fragmented memories, identified familiar landmarks in the landscape. Ancient places of worship, once-grand highways, and distinctively shaped rivers of the lost civilization were recognizable, though time and decay had taken their toll. "I'm fairly certain we're on the right track," she said, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Or as certain as one can be, navigating by memories of what feels like a dream from years past."

  From his spot on a bunk, Faelun chimed in, his voice still shaky from the residual effects of the lotus, "I too have that trouble sometimes. Separating memories of real and imagined events can be tricky. But, as you can see," he gave a weak grin, "I'm managing just fine."

  The terrain underfoot began to change, becoming more uneven, rolling hills rising around them, a signal they were distancing themselves from the Rupture and its cataclysmic emanations. Cadoc, who had consumed copious amounts of water and food and swelled back to his usual proportions, like dough rising in warmth, looked back in the direction they came. "I was hoping we'd get to see the Rupture," he said wistfully.

  "If you decide to turn back, see if you can find my other sock," Emeric added, much to the amusement of the group. "Must've lost it when those Dryads had us undress."

  Evangeline looked horrified, "You only brought one pair of socks? And you've not washed them?" Emeric merely shrugged, explaining his patent-pending air-drying technique that both removed stink and distracted flies that might have otherwise bothered him in the night, to the further distaste of Evangeline.

  Buren pushed the group to travel swiftly, resting only when the horses showed signs of exhaustion. Their path took them to the edge of a vast desert, the air heavy with dust that masked the expanse beyond.

  "I hoped we were done with deserts," Torvald muttered, squinting at the dusty horizon.

  "Are you sure this is the right path?" he asked, turning to Evangeline.

  "Just keep going," she responded. "I have a feeling the path will become obvious when we know how to look. The details, however, are fuzzy."

  Taking this in stride, Torvald nodded, "Eyes out then, everybody," and urged the horses forward, into the dusty uncertainty.

  The boundary between the lush knolls and the shimmering desert had been sharply defined, drawn with a precision that seemed uncanny. As they approached, they realized the desert was not stable at all. The sands shifted and swirled in a never-ending dance, forming and collapsing patterns in a hypnotizing rhythm.

  "There's no way we can cross that," Torvald stated, squinting at the undulating expanse before them. "The whole region is quicksand!"

  "Keep going," Evangeline instructed, though her eyes held a flicker of uncertainty. "Something is not adding up here."

  Torvald glanced towards Buren for confirmation, and upon receiving an assuring nod, he sighed and nudged the horses forward. As the horses reached the edge of the tumultuous sands, their hooves sunk through as if the ground was made of mist. Torvald pulled back instinctively, but Buren's steady hand on his shoulder encouraged him. He gave Torvald a confident nod, and with a breath of resolve, Torvald guided the horses forward again.

  To everyone's surprise, the well-trained horses continued through the sand with little resistance, moving as though they were wading through water rather than sinking into treacherous quicksand. As they moved deeper, the horses disappeared from sight, their bodies swallowed by the shimmering sands.

  "Should we be holding our breaths?" Emeric asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement as the sand crept up to their necks.

  "Why didn't we just send him ahead to see what happens?" Evangeline retorted, her eyes locked onto the swirling sands. "Even if he didn't come back, nothing of importance would have been lost."

  "You'd miss me, Spook," Emeric replied nonchalantly.

  Then, the curtain of shimmering sand descended upon them, enveloping them in a hazy cloud where even their hands disappeared in front of their faces. But this oppressive shroud was transient. As it lifted, they found themselves in a valley bathed in hues of gold and amber, an eternal sunset bathing the land in a warm, comforting light.

  Looking up, they saw the layer of sand churn above them like a roiling ocean. The grains rubbed against each other, causing a soft glow to emanate from the sand's surface, enough to illuminate their surroundings in a gentle, soothing light.

  "It certainly explains why this route has remained hidden," Torvald noted, a look of fascination settling on his face. "At a casual glance, one would think there's nothing more unwelcoming than a field of quicksand, but that's just an illusion."

  As they descended the valley, they noticed the terrain was peppered with curious pits. From each one, the sand seemed to billow upwards like smoke escaping a chimney. The sight was somewhat hypnotic, stirring up a flurry of questions and theories in their minds.

  "These pits must be part of a larger subterranean network," Faelun speculated, his gaze fixed intently on the rising sand. "Based on what I've observed so far, I'd say the region around the Rupture is underlain by an extensive cave system. The energy discharged from the Rupture probably fuels the movement of the sand, causing it to spew above ground at certain points and then be drawn back into the underground flow at others."

  Emeric, never one to miss an opportunity to inject his own brand of humour into a conversation, promptly interjected. "I have an alternate theory," he said, clearing his throat before stating in a grandiose tone, "Magic."

  "Bah," Faelun retorted, rolling his eyes. "How utterly unoriginal. Plutor of Archensas posited that 'every phenomenon could be attributed to magic, even when other explanations seem more plausible' nearly four hundred years ago. This 'Law of Plutor' is well-known by anyone who dabbles in any sort of scholarly pursuit. Thanks to it, such blatantly obvious notions are usually kept out of otherwise productive discussions."

  "Why does he get immortalized in history for stating the obvious, while I just get reprimanded?" Emeric grumbled under his breath.

  Meanwhile, Buren had been studying their surroundings. The valley floor was carpeted with a multitude of pale plants, their small leaves and white flowers painting a serene picture against the backdrop of the shimmering sand. It was reminiscent of the understory in a dense forest.

  The valley had afforded them a welcome change of scenery with its unobstructed views, courtesy of the sparse vegetation and the absence of large rocks. Even the mellow, ever-present glow of the sand's incandescence gave the valley an inviting atmosphere. However, the lighter particles of dust in the air blurred their sightlines, giving everything a dreamlike quality.

  The luminescent gloaming had made them slightly drowsy, and by the time Buren had decided they had journeyed enough for the day, they were more than ready to make camp. Their previous encounter with the stupefying forest had them cautious at first, but they could find no traces of anything unusual affecting them, despite their unique surroundings. They relished their dwindling provisions, soaking in the tranquility of the valley. Buren took his usual rounds around their campsite while the rest used the time to rest, all too aware that Buren's signal to resume their journey seemed to come earlier with each passing day.

  They spread their bedrolls on the soft, sandy ground and found themselves staring up at the ever-churning layer of sand above. The sight was akin to watching golden clouds roll by, a strange sort of lullaby after a long day on the road. The soft, steady sound it constantly created just added to the soothing atmosphere.

  "The way we're going, our journey will reach its conclusion before we know it," Emeric mused aloud, his gaze still fixed on the roiling sand above.

  "Good," Evangeline responded. "We've kept the King waiting long enough already. I dread to think what we'll be returning to."

  Cadoc had chimed in then, a hint of shyness tinging his voice. "Do you think we'll stay in touch once we return to our regular lives?"

  Torvald shrugged. "I'm usually on the road, so it's a bit difficult to keep in touch. But you're all welcome to visit me wherever I end up."

  "Next time you find yourself in the capital, drop by the Watering Hole in the Southern District," Emeric offered. "You'll usually find me there."

  "Look me up if you ever come to the Inquisition Headquarters," Evangeline said. "Then you can pass along my greetings to the Knight as well, since I would never be caught dead in such a swill joint."

  "Well, good thing being invisible is your specialty then, Evey," Emeric had teased, grinning. "I'll be sure to drop by your office, too."

  "I didn't extend an invitation to you," she responded, although there was humor in her voice.

  "I'm sure you'll welcome me with open arms. Otherwise, I'm going to tell everyone about how we are the best of friends—inseparable, really—and our dance around that tree, while naked and intoxicated," he threatened, a playful smirk on his face.

  "You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed, sitting up to glare at him.

  "You know I would, Spook," he responded, lowering his cap over his eyes and effectively ending their exchange.

  In the midst of their shared camaraderie, their eyes had adjusted to the perpetual twilight, so they could enjoy the sight of the hills cast in gold around them. It was Emeric who broke the comfortable silence.

  "And what about you, boss?" he called out to Buren, his hat pulled low over his eyes in feigned nonchalance. "We'll be hearing about your exploits in any case. But reckon there'll be room for us lot in your future grand ventures?"

  Buren did not immediately respond. His gaze was far off, lost in the vast and mysterious desert, his mind brewing a storm of thoughts. "It's best," he finally said, his voice carrying the weight of solitude, "that I walk my path alone."

  Emeric chuckled, lifting his cap to cast a sly glance at Buren. "Oh, come now. Admit it, without us, you'd have been in a right pickle in more than one instance on this trek," he asserted, only to slide his cap back over his eyes, sinking into a doze as though the discussion had been merely a passing whim.

  Buren could only sigh, knowing there was truth in Emeric's words. Yet he knew, deep down, that their journeys were taking different paths. "If it had been only me," he thought, "many of these 'situations' would have been avoided altogether." But he didn't voice his thoughts aloud, choosing instead to bear the silence of the unspoken.

  The banter among them continued. Evangeline, with a smirk playing on her lips, chimed in, "Oh, I'm certain if Buren needs someone to safeguard his chicken coop, you'd top his list, Emeric."

  The jovial atmosphere, however, was suddenly pierced by Elwin's sharp exclamation. "Guys, look," he urged, his finger pointing towards the endless canopy of sand. "There's something in that pillar of sand!"

  The group, momentarily jolted out of their relaxed state, shifted their gazes toward the sand plume, curiosity piquing as they sought to identify the mystery concealed within the golden grains.

  In the quietude of the evening, the ensemble peered at a peculiar phenomenon unfolding before them. Something unusual was weaving through the airborne sands, a spectacle that stirred both wonder and uncertainty in their hearts. "Are those...rainbows?" Faelun mused, his scholarly eyes squinting as he strove to make sense of the spectral display.

  Elwin, however, was quick to refute the assumption. "No, those things are alive," he confirmed, his voice laced with intrigue.

  "Worms," ventured Torvald, his gaze affixed to the shimmering enigma like a sailor locked onto a distant lighthouse. His keen eyes could make out the outlines of their bodies amidst the glinting sand grains - cylindrical forms resembling the common earthworm but adorned with a terrifying set of teeth at their anterior end.

  "Sandworms?" Faelun scoffed, skepticism clear in his tone. "Sounds like something out of those fanciful tales of distant worlds."

  Yet the spectacle before them was anything but ordinary. More of the iridescent creatures erupted from the sandy surface, their elongated bodies appearing as living rainbows coursing through the dune sea. Fins adorned the creatures, undulating in perfect harmony with their sinuous movements, making them seem symmetrical, their dance a mesmeric performance of light and life.

  For a time, their world was reduced to this singular marvel, the awe of the spectacle silencing their voices. It was Emeric who finally broke the silence. "It really hasn't been all that bad, has it?" he mused, his words hanging in the cool air of the desert evening. "The journey, I mean. We've had our share of perils, sure, but we've also witnessed wonders, travelled to extraordinary places and lived tales that would turn a bard green with envy."

  Faelun picked up on his sentiment. "And made ground-breaking discoveries," he added, his scholar's heart swelling with pride.

  Torvald joined the retrospective celebration. "We have taken the truly less-travelled road," he chimed in.

  "All the while carrying out the most weighty of responsibilities," Evangeline pitched in, her tone grave yet proud. Elwin offered his thoughts next. "We weathered circumstances that would break most," he added, a glimmer of accomplishment in his eyes.

  Cadoc, the most imaginative amongst them, added his heartfelt sentiment, "And met remarkable individuals."

  Emeric responded, a smile dancing on his lips, "Thanks, I am indeed quite remarkable. You lot, on the other hand, well..."

  As laughter echoed in the quiet night, Buren thought to himself, "The true marvel is that we all stand here, sane and alive. We have gotten off easy thus far."

  It was Cadoc, his youthful enthusiasm unfettered, who proposed, "We should have a name. Like the famed Seekers of the Artefact."

  However, Evangeline's voice of reason intervened, "We can't claim a public title. Our mission, especially concerning the King's condition, must remain secret."

  Undeterred, Cadoc continued, "A name we can use amongst ourselves then? How about 'The King's Confidants'?" As he suggested the name, his hand swirled in the air, like an artist painting an unseen canvas. Their laughter subsided as they contemplated the suggestion, each considering the weight and significance of this self-appointed title.

  Torvald was the first to voice his dissent. "No," he stated firmly, a hint of disgust evident in his voice, "I refuse to be remembered in association with our pathetic excuse of a king."

  Emeric retorted with a jovial suggestion, "How about 'Sir Emeric and His Illustrious Aides'?" His proposition was met with a chorus of head shakes and disapproving mumbles.

  "The Seekers of the Lost City?" Elwin ventured, offering a proposal of his own.

  "Too similar to the Seekers of the Artefact, don't you think?" Emeric countered. "We wouldn't want to be accused of imitation."

  After a moment's contemplation, Faelun added his suggestion to the mix. "What about 'The Rupture Raiders'?"

  A hush fell upon the group, the catchy title hanging in the air. Evangeline was the first to break the silence, her tone contemplative, "It's the best one so far, though I'm not certain about 'raiders'. It makes us sound like a gang of highway robbers."

  "I like it!" Cadoc exclaimed, youthful enthusiasm bubbling in his voice. "It really rolls off the tongue."

  Elwin repeated the name under his breath, whispering it first, then announcing it aloud, and finally in a herald-like intonation. As if trying to test the flavor of the words. "It works," he concluded, a grin spreading across his face.

  Cadoc, exuberant in the agreement, declared, "Then it's settled. Our next task is to come up with a secret handshake."

  Emeric promptly stepped up to the challenge, he secured Cadoc in a playful headlock - the infamous 'noogie' - and proceeded to tousle his hair with a knuckle grind. "How does this work for you, Cadoc?"

  Squirming in Emeric's grip, Cadoc hastily reconsidered, "Alright, perhaps no secret handshakes are necessary."

  Once Emeric released him, Elwin leaned in close to Cadoc, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "Are you going to tell them about our secret passphrase ideas?"

  In the midst of their banter, Buren had quietly retreated to the edge of the camp, wrapping himself in his cloak. Noticing his withdrawal, Evangeline rose and addressed the group, "Alright, everyone, time to settle down. We have a long journey ahead, and it would be wise to rest while we can, even if the concept of 'morning' is somewhat lost in this place."

  The soft, amber light and the soothing hum of the shifting sands had coaxed them all into slumber, all except for Buren, who remained wide awake, holding his silent vigil. Evangeline, unable to find rest in her own dreams, looked his way. She felt a pang of empathy for the man, understanding all too well why he might shy away from sleep, for just a memory of his haunting visions was enough to unsettle the sanest of minds.

  After a while, her restlessness got the better of her. She rose from her bedroll, padding softly over to join Buren at his vigil. "I want you to know that in my report, I intend to state that you can be trusted," she murmured, ensuring her words did not carry to their slumbering companions. "I believe your commitment to the Faith is genuine."

  Buren's face remained stoic as he asked, "Is that your belief?"

  Her eyes met his, carrying a weight of uncertainty. "To be honest, I do not know. If I were to wager, I'd bet against it. However, I cannot deny that your heart seems to be in the right place. Your passion for safeguarding these lands is palpable. I trust that whatever actions you undertake in pursuit of your goals will, in the end, serve the larger goals of the Faith, namely, the welfare of the people."

  His gaze remained unwavering as he posed a question, "What if that which benefits the people was to cause devastation to the Faith?"

  Her response was immediate, "The answer to that age-old question varies greatly depending on whom you ask. As for me, I would gladly step aside if that were for the people's benefit. I serve the people, the kind, ordinary citizens. The lines may sometimes blur, but that is where my loyalty lies."

  Buren studied her face, her words echoing in the silence between them. He found sincerity in her eyes, but he knew better than to rely on such readings. Evangeline was a skilled manipulator, and he had no doubt she could mask her true intentions behind an earnest facade. Nevertheless, he responded, offering her nothing but a simple acknowledgement, "I'll keep that in mind."

  "If you ever find yourself in need of a friend within the Inquisition, know that you have one," she offered, preparing to return to her own place within the camp.

  "You do not fully understand the burdens that come with counting me as a friend," Buren responded, his gaze returning to the ethereal spectacle of the prismatic worms gracefully carving their path through the towering pillars of sand, their fins glinting in the dim light.

  "Of one thing, I am certain," she countered, her voice steady, "it is far preferable to have you as a friend rather than an enemy. I have the sense that you view everyone as a potential foe."

  "That is merely one possible outcome I must always keep in mind," he replied, his tone devoid of any emotion.

  "I understand," she said. "However, I hope you realize that as long as you're among us, you do not need to constantly look over your shoulder."

  His response was quick, "Yet, it does not hurt to do so."

  Her chuckle filled the quiet night air. "I suppose it doesn't," she conceded. With that, she took her leave, letting the silence settle once again over their makeshift camp, punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic whisper of the shifting sands.

  She stopped as someone grasped her wrist. She turned, surprised, and came face to face with Buren.

  "On second thought," he said, his voice a bit hoarse, "you take the first watch. I'll just...relax, for a moment."

  "Of course," she said, her voice rising to a girlish pitch before she cleared her throat and continued: "take as long as you need."

  In the peculiar stasis of the dusk-like light that pervaded this alien land, Buren stirred from a restless slumber. Though his dreams had been tumultuous, he felt a rare sense of rejuvenation as he awoke. "Although 'morning', 'day' and 'night' all seem the same in this realm," he mused, eyeing the unchanged landscape.

  For a fleeting moment, he basked in the unfamiliar sense of ease that came with knowing someone else was on watch. Yet, a strange pressure on his chest roused him further. Looking down, he found the weight of his iron hand resting on his ribcage. With a gentle sigh, he moved the limb to his side, the momentary spell of peace broken.

  As he rose, Evangeline, perched on her usual lookout spot, gave him a friendly wave. In response, he flashed the hand signal their group had come to associate with readiness to move on. Rousing the others proved easy, except for Faelun. The peculiar lighting conditions here had further disoriented his already irregular sleep pattern, and he was up, quill in hand, hunched over parchment illuminated by a glowstone.

  After relieving himself against a nearby sandstone, Buren packed up his sparse belongings. They had precious little food left, deciding to consume the remnants while on the move. The wagon creaked into life and they resumed their journey, the valley's end gradually coming into view.

  "Keep your eyes peeled for those worms," Torvald shouted over the grinding wheels of the wagon as they began to ascend towards the sandy barrier. "They might be pretty to look at, but I'd rather not host that sort of guest."

  Emeric nodded in agreement. "No joke there. The itch sometimes keeps me up all night, scratching my--"

  "LALALALA," Evangeline abruptly interrupted, her fingers stuffing her ears. "I can't hear anything," she sang out in an attempt to drown out their less than savory discussion.

  They entered the suspended cascade of sand, a phenomenon upheld by the wind, static electricity, and likely some other unique property of the unearthly sift.

  "So this is what it is like to be a bird or a harpy and fly into the clouds," Evangeline thought aloud, and spat some dust that had gotten into her mouth. "There goes another dream, ruined by reality."

  Faelun, eyes twinkling with curiosity, extended a glass jar into the sandy maelstrom, securing a sample within its confines. "For further study," he explained, his grin stretching across his face.

  Their journey through the shimmering sands was unhindered; the worm swarm, driven by whatever instinct dictated their migration, had evidently moved on. Like undead rising from a grave, the group emerged into clear air and sunlight, penetrating the deceptive desert floor. Blinking against the sudden brightness, they took a moment to adjust, brushing the clinging grains of sand from their clothes.

  Their surroundings were an encouraging sight, the green, opaque vegetation marking a welcome distance from the Rupture's influence. The landscape unfolded before them as a deep gorge, its only escape a single, winding path. Undeterred, they embarked upon it, their passage marked by the rustling of disturbed bushes and echoed footfalls.

  Eventually, the confining walls of the gorge receded, opening into an expanse that marked their exit from the labyrinth of valleys they had originally entered. Evangeline pointed to their left, the vista dotted with entrances to countless valleys side by side, stretching as far as the eye could see. "The valley we originally entered, the one that resembled a skull, must be a few hours' travel in that direction."

  With familiar territory underfoot, Buren urged Torvald to pick up speed, their course now aimed towards the road leading back to the capital. A small pond appeared alongside their path, causing Faelun to call for a halt. Pulling the wagon to the side of the path, Torvald reined in the horses.

  "Now that we're out of the Rupture territory, we need to cleanse ourselves as thoroughly as possible," Faelun urged. "We should scrub our skin clean and rinse our clothes of the dust. We've been exposed to a fair amount, but ending the exposure is still a wise course."

  Despite his burning desire to press on and complete their mission, Buren conceded, nodding his assent. With a collective sense of relief, they dismounted the wagon and began shedding their clothes, Evangeline discreetly distancing herself to a spot shielded by some nearby bushes.

  Emeric called out to her in good humor, "It's not like we have anything left to hide from each other!" Her response was to stick out her hand from the thicket to show a crude hand gesture.

  They submerged themselves in the cool water of the pond, rinsing away layers of accumulated dust that had adhered to their skin and clothes. The once-clear water quickly turned a murky hue. Elwin remarked, his voice tinged with surprise, "I had forgotten how it feels to be clean. I hadn't even noticed how covered in grime I was."

  As they scrubbed the remnants of the Rupture from their bodies, Faelun issued a grim reminder. "If anyone develops any unusual symptoms, like rashes, scales, or tumors, please report to me immediately. Particularly if the tumors move or talk. The faster we can perform a vivisection, the more informative it will be." His words drew a nervous glance from Cadoc who, as casually as possible, covered a mole on his upper arm with his palm.

  Once they had thoroughly wrung out their clothes, they wrapped themselves in their bedding. The potent influence of the Rupture was waning, and the climate had begun to edge back towards the harsh winter they remembered. Torvald, having only dipped into the water, had already kindled a fire. They stretched wires between sticks to hang their wet clothes, sitting around the fire themselves to soak up its warmth.

  As soon as their clothes were no longer dripping, Buren, ever the taskmaster, ordered them to resume their journey. Faelun protested, shivering as he enveloped himself back in his thick cocoon of clothing, a haven he had rarely left during this leg of the journey in the opposite direction. "I'm going to catch pneumonia," he complained.

  Buren considered how his survival was no longer required, as the keys to the ritual were now held by Evangeline, instead of the Cleric, but kept his evaluation to himself.

  "Although we could travel faster without the extra weight..." he considered lightly, rubbing his chin while looking the Cleric up and down. Faelun noticed, and shot him a questioning look.

  "On another thought," the Cleric continued, Buren's evaluating look making him uneasy, "the faster we move ahead, the quicker I'll have access to proper healers."

  Buren just nodded and turned his eyes away.

  Despite their complaints, they made good progress, the capital still a few days' journey away. They finished drying their clothes as they made camp for the night, the cold seeping in once the sun had set. Emeric, his teeth chattering from the cold, made a wistful comment. "You know, having sand everywhere wasn't so bad, in comparison."

  "Stop that clattering, you'll give away our position," Evangeline admonished. In response, Emeric raised an eyebrow suggestively. "How about you help me stay warm, then?"

  To the surprise of the group, Evangeline agreed. "Sure," she responded, and before Emeric could gloat, she continued, "Run some laps around the camp while you keep watch, and you'll warm up in no time. No need to thank me for the advice."

  Undeterred, Emeric insisted, "Thanks," as if he was determined to counter her wishes at every turn. He added sarcastically, "Knew I could count on you."

  As the biting cold weather, which seemed all the harsher since they had adjusted to a milder climate, began to infiltrate the camp, each member of the group sought refuge near the fire, wrapped in their blankets. Even Buren took the opportunity to delegate responsibility, entrusting the night watch to others.

  Before dawn, he stirred, waking to the darkness. Finding no one on guard, Buren's instinct for danger kicked in. Clad in his full gear, he stealthily grabbed his blade, ready for a potential threat. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized Evangeline was also missing.

  The thin layer of snow that blanketed the ground held the imprint of two sets of footprints. Silently, Buren followed the trail, speculating whether a disturbance had led them to investigate. The quiet of the night was broken by the faint sound of heavy breathing, and from a distance, Buren noticed thin wisps of mist - the steam from someone's breath in the frigid air - rising from behind a ridge.

  Staying low to the ground, Buren's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw and attack at a moment's notice. With his heart pounding in his chest, he carefully peeked over the ridge. Instead of the violent scene he had prepared himself for, he found Emeric and Evangeline entwined in an intimate embrace, their clothes discarded around them.

  Having remained unseen, Buren quietly pulled back to camp. As he moved away, a thought struck him. "I see she is setting the pace," he reflected. "Though that has been obvious for a while now."

  He stood guard until the duo returned.

  "There was a sound I needed to investigate," Evangeline explained with a neutral expression and tone when she saw him awake.

  "And I though there was trouble, so I went to check it out myself," Emeric said, with a lazy grin.

  "He didn't even take his weapons with him. Does he think me that easy to fool?" Buren mused, considering whether he should harry them a bit, but decided against it. Instead, he settled back to sleep.

  "I doubt he planned that far, anyway," he concluded. Their dalliance made him think of Azure, and how such relationships just seemed to burgeon on their own, like travelling together, facing danger while working towards a common goal were fertile ground for such liaisons.

  "And nothing poisons them faster than returning to the 'real world'," he considered morosely.

  In the cool light of morning, they set out for the final stretch of their journey. The surrounding countryside lay bare and desolate, a stark reminder of the harsh realities they had faced. Emeric, seemingly unfazed by the gloomy panorama, commented light-heartedly, "If things ever settle down, I bet there'll be a lot of abandoned farmsteads to choose from for our retirement."

  Evangeline raised an eyebrow. "And what would you know about farming?" she inquired.

  Emeric's reply was nonchalant. "That plants grow all by themselves, so how hard could it be? Besides, I'm sure someone of my stature will be awarded some servants by the Faith. You know, for a lifetime of commendable performance in their service."

  Evangeline retorted swiftly, her eyes twinkling with a newfound lightness that Buren noted. "Then you better start performing this 'commendable service' sometime soon," she challenged.

  Emeric, unfazed by her comment, retorted confidently, "I'm sure your report will reflect that my performance is already satisfactory, based on your own findings."

  Evangeline shot back with a playful smirk. "I don't know, I'll probably have to reveal that you come up a bit short," she countered, holding her thumb and forefinger close together to indicate a minuscule distance.

  At her teasing jab, Emeric scoffed and turned his gaze towards the horizon.

  "Has anyone seen my manuscript?" Faelun complained. "If I don't find it, this expedition will have been for nothing."

  "We do have the way to save the King," Elwin reminded him. "You know, the reason why we set out in the first place?"

  "Maybe on paper," Faelun scoffed.

  In the distance, the faint silhouette of the capital emerged. "If we push past our usual time to set camp, we'll arrive tonight," Torvald pointed out.

  Buren nodded in agreement. It was high time they concluded this journey. His gaze followed Emeric's to the distant city, but it landed on a disquieting sight: a thick column of black smoke billowing into the sky from the heart of the capital. "I see our troubles are far from over," Buren mused. "I wonder what has taken place during our absence. Judging by the fire, I doubt it is anything good." Sitting down, he turned his attention to servicing his sword, getting ready to face the challenges still ahead of them.

  "I get the feeling I'm not going to get a proper night's rest for a while now," he mused.