Chapter 63 - Forest Friction

Faint, shimmering threads are being pulled from the soldiers, from Clovis, from Arrian. From me. It's a silent, invisible tide, siphoning away the very essence of our vitality. 

This isn't a sanctuary. It’s a trap.

"Get out of the clearing, now! All of you!" The words rip from my throat leaving behind a dry terror as I start to run straight for the treeline. 

"It’s taking our mana! We have to move!" I continue to scream, pouring every ounce of my remaining strength into the words.

Panic, ugly and absolute, shatters their disciplined formation. What ensues is a frantic scramble. The ordered ranks of soldiers dissolve into a mob of terrified individuals, their flight made treacherous by the battlefield they just created.

They trip over the gelatinous remains, their boots sinking into the soft viscera. Armour plates clang as soldiers collide, tumbling over the small, twisted bodies of goblins, their limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to regain their footing.

I’m swept along in the chaotic exodus, my own feet finding little purchase on the slick grass.

A hand grabs my arm. 

I look up and it’s Roach who proceeds to haul me forward. 

We finally spill back into the oppressive gloom of the forest, regrouping in the same spot where we first entered the clearing. 

The entire expedition is gasping for air, their bodies trembling with adrenaline and a lingering exhaustion which they feel they can no longer attribute to a well fought battle.

"You!" Arrian seethes with a dangerous growl. He points a gauntleted finger in my face. "You led us into that. Your 'safe' clearing was a deathtrap. You nearly got every single one of us killed."

"I didn't know," I stammer as the guilt settles onto my conscience. "The lens… it looked clear."

"Clear? Or did your 'unique perspective' simply fail you?" he sneers. "You were supposed to be our guide. Instead, you have proven to be an incompetent, reckless liability. Your judgment has put every life here at risk."

"That’s enough, Arrian." Roach pulls Arrian’s finger down. "She made a mistake based on new information. We all survived. Please stand down."

Arrian’s blazing anger pivots, finding a new and willing target. He lets out a short, derisive laugh. "Survived? No thanks to your leadership, Roach. Tell me, how does it feel to command a guard that allowed its own village to be overrun? You speak of her making a mistake, but your incompetence is a permanent condition."

The colour drains from Roach’s face, the insult striking a deep and painful nerve. "You have no right—"

"I have every right!" Arrian bellows, his voice echoing through the unnaturally quiet woods. "I am in command here! You defend this stray out of some misguided loyalty to a dying Chief, and in doing so, you’ve endangered us all!"

“It was your decision to bring her along, the blame should fall solely on you Arrian.” Roach’s defense feels less like a defense of me and more like an opportunity to get back at Arrian finally. 

The argument ignites. One of Arrian’s men shouts. "The Captain’s right. We took an unnecessary risk there." A member of the town guard immediately counters, "Roach held the line better than your captain!" 

The camp devolves into a cacophony of accusations, the unity of the battlefield forgotten in an instant. 

Aniro tries to interject, a calm hand raised in meditation, but his quiet reason is drowned out by the rising tide of anger.

They’re wasting time. They’re standing at the edge of a known danger, screaming at each other while more monsters could be on their way. 

A pressure in my head starts to grow and seethe with stress. Before it eventually travels down through my body and out my arm in an insistent throbbing pain. I see the faces of Elara and Hakota, their lives lost because of a threat that doesn’t stop to argue.

"SHUT UP!"

It’s not a scream of panic this time, but a raw, ragged roar of command attempts to quell the lazy squabbling. 

Every head snaps toward me. In their eyes, I see a mixture of shock, anger, and confusion.

I take a shaky breath, my entire body trembling with furious scornful clarity. "The monsters. The clearing. Do you think any of it cares who’s in charge? Do you think it will wait for you to finish your petty fighting?"

I look from Arrian’s stunned face to Roach’s grim expression. "We are in the heart of whatever is causing this sickness. Arguing is a luxury we don’t have. We need to make a decision. Now."

I hold their focus, refusing to back down. "Is the expedition going to continue, or is it ceasing here?"

The blunt finality of the question seems to sober them. Arrian and Roach share a long, hard look, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. 

The animosity is still there, but it is overshadowed by the cold, hard logic of survival.

"We continue." Arrian says finally, devoid of his usual theatrics.

"We continue." Roach echoes in agreement.

A tense consensus settles over the group. 

“Be warned, both of you. The forest isn't like it was before. What we just experienced… Well all I’ll say is we should expect further weird occurrences. The rules of this place have changed." My remark doesn't seem to waver Arrian or Roach. 

There are no more arguments. There is only a shared, unspoken understanding. The path forward is a descent into a world that is actively hostile and fundamentally different.