The Forbidden Forest

THE PLACE LIVED UP TO ITS REPUTATION.

It didn’t take long for the Rose’s Thorns to be attacked by wild animals and monsters, ranging from dire wolves and goblins, to high orcs and eldritch beasts.

“Amelia, watch out!” yelled Cerys, warning her friend about an incoming hit.

“I’ve got you!” cried Xana, letting loose a magic arrow. Incapable of spellcasting as she may be, she was still able to wield enchanted ammunition, and her shot struck true. The tentacled beast behind Amelia was struck on its neck, and the arrow detonated in arcane fury, vaporizing its head.

“Thanks!” Amelia breathed out, as she faced off against a massive, red-skinned orc in front of her. She had been pincered by the creatures, who were working with suspiciously good synchronicity.

The orc snarled, raising its axe overhead.

Amelia lowered her stance. She poured magic energy into her sword, engulfing its blade with the silver radiance of Faydan herself.

The orc roared, charging with such fury that its footsteps shook the ground.

But Amelia was undaunted. With a flash of light, she met the beast with her blade, slicing its torso clean through. As for the beast… it didn’t have the chance to strike at the former paladin, its hands bound in place by a magical thread.

“Not on my watch, you don’t,” said Cerys, her magic staff pointed at the creature. She didn’t need to know its language to understand the sheer hatred it felt for her; the vicious glare on its red eyes made it abundantly clear.

A loud thud echoed through the forest as the orc’s body hit the ground.

“Someone’s leading them,” said Amelia, flicking the dark blood off her sword with a swift swing. “From the very first ambush, it felt like the monsters were being driven at us, not hunting by chance.”

“I guess Goldy Locks was right,” Xana replied in agreement. “Mind you, it isn’t strange to run into monsters here… but is it me, or are they strangely coordinated?”

“They definitely are,” Cerys assured, her eyes brimming with magic energy. “Someone’s tampered with them. It’s faint, but I can see traces of a Geass spell etched on their flesh… and I feel like we’ve been under surveillance ever since we entered here.”

The air grew heavy with tension. The Rose’s Thorns were no strangers to danger, but being at the mercy of an unseen foe forced even them to hesitate.

“Let’s go back,” Xana suggested. “We’re in the palm of whoever is stalking us. We’d best return to the city and come back with Anathema.”

It was a sensible proposal, but Amelia shook her head.

“We cannot do that,” she replied, clenching her fists. “We can’t leave the forest until our mission is done.”

Her honor wouldn’t allow her to step back; not when her liege was in danger. After all, the Guild had entrusted Amelia and her comrades to acquire a root of the Dead Tree, not for the sake of profit, but to make an elixir to save the king’s life.

Three years ago, the ruler of Sylphadim, King Cedric, had fallen victim to a foul scheme of his enemies. He’d been led to an ambush, and stabbed with a cursed blade.

No healer or cleric in the land was capable of lifting the terrible spell.

He was stabilized in the temple of Maladriel, the Goddess of Mercy, and to this day remained in intensive care. But his strength was slowly fading, and without a permanent cure, he would surely die.

“Amelia,” said Cerys, walking close to her friend. “I know what this means to you. All of us do. We want His Majesty to be well and good, but we have to accept there is no point for us to die here.”

Amelia’s gaze hardened, fixed onto the fallen orc.

“I know that…” she said. She knew in her heart what she had to do, but admitting her weakness was so humiliating that she was hesitant.

“If we fall, then who will carry on the torch for us?” Cerys asked. “Who will look out for Princess Camila, when we know there are traitors about?”

Her argument was irrefutable. The Thorns had entered the forest just a few hours ago, and their strength was already beginning to wane. They could still survive a few more attacks, but they’d risk being overwhelmed in a protracted battle, especially with an unknown party lurking in the midst.

“Very well,” Amelia conceded, begrudgingly. “Let’s find Erwin. It appears we have no choice but to rely on Anathema this time.”

She loathed the notion of begging for help, but she recognized the necessity of it.

Alas… the realization might have come too late.

Just as Amelia and her comrades had come to an agreement, the forest around them became shrouded in darkness. It appeared like the doing of an eclipse to the naked eye, but Cerys knew better, her arcane senses flaring up at the danger.

“On guard!” she yelled, erecting a barrier around them.

Then, the crashing sound of lightning, fire and eldritch energies echoed through the forest, their fury unleashed against the magical wards of the elf.

“Oh shit!” yelled Xana, even her veteran heart struggling to fight the panic.

Amelia, on the other hand, remained silent. Her hand held firmly onto the hilt of her blade, her eyes scanning the surroundings to identify the source of the attack.

Alas, although she was quick to locate the aggressors… it soon became clear to her that the situation was hopeless. While she and the others argued about their retreat, the Thorns had been encircled by a full squad of spellcasters.

There were at least ten of them, and they shot their spells with careful timing not to leave any gaps in their attacks. If Cerys dropped her barrier even for a moment, the Thorns would be immediately struck.

Amelia could probably survive making a run for it, as she could erect a personal barrier of her own… but doing so would mean abandoning her comrades to their deaths.

The magical barrage continued to pound against Cerys’ barrier, the elf barely holding onto it through sheer force of will. Xana had her bow and arrow trained on one of the hooded figures outside, ready to shoot the moment the ward fell. She might not survive the fight, but she’d at least take down one of them with her.

Amidst the desperate chaos, Amelia was faced with a dreadful choice:

Would she fight to the death alongside her comrades?

Or would she escape on her own and live?

Her duty to the King demanded results, and laying down her life would doom her memory to the eternal stain of dishonor. But abandoning her friends to die, after she personally led them to the forest… the shame of such a sin would be greater.

As Amelia hesitated, Cerys’ barrier groaned like glass about to shatter. Sparks of fire and lightning bled through the cracks, scorching the ground at their feet.

There was no other choice. Amelia wouldn’t flee, but she lacked the strength to achieve victory. So, she dropped to her knees, and as the magical onslaught resounded throughout the arcane ward… she clasped her hands in prayer.

“Lady Faydan,” she beseeched her Goddess, before the last layers of the magic ward could be breached. “Lend me thy strength. I beg of thee… grant us the power to quell this darkness. Heed me and deliver us!”

The world seemed to slow around Amelia as she uttered the words.

Then, when she opened her eyes, she witnessed a miracle.

The barrier’s glow dimmed to a fragile shimmer, a breath away from shattering… until a blinding arc of lightning ripped through the darkness. It manifested behind the attackers, leaping from one to the next in a merciless chain of death.

Amelia was aghast.

The spell had erupted out of thin air, searing everyone in its path. In all her years, she had seldom witnessed such a powerful magic, even from Cerys.

But it wasn’t the elf who had cast the spell. As the attackers collapsed to the ground, so did Cerys, her strength all but spent.

So who in Krysterios could have done it?

As Amelia asked herself the pressing question, she saw one final enemy still standing in the distance. The man was clad in a dark hood and cloak, concealing a full set of enchanted armor beneath. Judging by its red and black colors, and the heraldry of a rising sun wrapped in chains, these men belonged to the Cult of Croxas — the followers of the Demon Lord.

Xana spotted him too, and aimed her bow at him instead. He was likely the leader of the ambush squad, and she had no intention of sparing him.

However, before she could shoot the man, a massive beast descended upon him from the sky. Against all odds and reason, a bear the size of a wagon crashed onto the unsuspecting cultist, and the crunch of bones echoed with the impact.

Amelia stared at the beast in shock, making eye contact with it. Would a fight break out again? Or was the creature an ally in disguise? It didn’t seem hostile, and it seemed to gleam with an unusual intelligence for an animal.

Alas, Xana unwittingly answered the question for her.

Her fingers slipped.

The arrow flew, and struck the beast in its shoulder. The enchanted tip worked as intended, and exploded from within, blasting the bear’s arm clean off.

The beast recoiled in pain.

Amelia feared she would have to finish it off, but instead of fighting back, the creature bent down and bit onto the cloak of the fallen cultist. Then, it sped off into the forest, dragging the man along in its mouth.

“What the hell was that?” Xana asked, shaken by the incident.

“You absolute fool!” Cerys chastised her, rising through the exhaustion to smack the back of her head.

“Ow!” cried Xana. “Don’t hit me!”

“That was a druid!” Cerys snapped. “Did you see that lightning? He was the one who cast it! He was concealed as a raven, and hit the cultists from behind!”

Even while holding the barrier, Cerys had been scanning for a way out. But lo and behold, what she found was the arrival of their savior instead, only for Xana to blow his arm off with a magic arrow.

“Oh shit!” Xana gasped in horror, as she could feel her heart sink to her stomach. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I swear!”

“We can’t let him die!” Amelia urged them, pressing her allies to give him chase. “He won’t last long with that injury. After him! Quick!”

The Thorns didn’t miss a beat. Even in their panic, Xana locked in on the bear’s scent and kept track of the blood trail, while Cerys downed a mana potion to replenish her reserves.

Amelia had prayed for salvation, and Lady Faydan had delivered. On their honor, they wouldn’t let the Goddess’ mercy go to waste, if it was the last thing they did.