The twisted trees grew thicker, their branches weaving overhead into an impenetrable canopy that blocked most of the afternoon light. What filtered through came downwrong, a sickly green that made everything look diseased. The warmth in Briar's chest recoiled from it, pulling tighter with each step deeper into the corrupted lands.
Veroc led them along paths that barely existed, sometimes having to hack through undergrowth that had grown wild and wrong. The vegetation here didn't follow natural patterns. Vines twisted upward in spirals, their thorns growing in directions that defied logic. Flowers bloomed and rotted in the span of heartbeats, their petals falling only to regrow in different colors, different shapes.
"Don't touch anything," Veroc said for the third time, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "The corruption responds to contact. Makes it worse."
Behind them, the other Drak warriors moved in formation, eyes constantly scanning the shadows. They'd been walking for hours, and with each mile, the wrongness intensified. The air tasted metallic now, coating the back of Briar's throat with something that made her want to gag.
"How much further?" Sian asked, her voice tight. She'd been quiet since they left, staying close to Halian who hadn't spoken at all.
"To the border? Another hour, maybe two." Veroc paused, studying a tree whose bark wept something dark and viscous. "The seal itself is beyond that. We don't go there."
"Why?" Thaine asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"Because those who do don't come back unchanged,” Veroc said, his voice quiet. "Your fae magic won't work properly near the seal. The magic there is too old, too tangled. It recognizes nothing but what it was made to contain."
A branch cracked somewhere to their left. Everyone went still, weapons half-drawn, but nothing emerged from the shadows. The silence that followed felt worse than an attack would have.
They continued walking, the ground beneath their feet growing softer, spongier. It gave slightly with each step, as if the earth itself had begun to rot. Briar's boots squelched with each step, and she tried not to think about what might be seeping through the leather.
"Look," Thaine said quietly, pointing ahead.
A deer stood in their path. Or what had once been a deer. Its antlers had grown wild, branching and rebranching until they formed a crown of bone that should have been too heavy for any creature to carry. Its eyes were completely black, no whites visible,and when it opened its mouth, rows of teeth that belonged on a predator gleamed in the sick light.
It watched them for a long moment, head tilted at an angle that made Briar's neck ache in sympathy. Then it turned and walked into the undergrowth, moving wrong, its legs bending in too many places.
"The animals here," one of the younger Drak warriors said, his voice unsteady. "They're changing."
"Everything changes near the seal," Veroc said grimly. "The corruption seeps out, twists what it touches. Makes it into something else. Something that serves the creatures you locked away."
Arion moved closer to Briar, his light magic flickering weakly around them. It helped, a little, pushing back the worst of the oppressive atmosphere. But she could see the strain in his face, the effort it took to maintain even this small protection.
"You're exhausting yourself," she said quietly.
"I'm fine."
"You're not." She touched his arm, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "Save your strength. We'll need it."
He looked at her, something soft in his expression despite everything. His hand found hers, squeezing gently before letting go.
Ahead, Eliam had stopped, his palm pressed against a tree trunk. His face was drawn, shadows forming in his eyes. The forest that should have welcomed its king fought him at every turn, refusing to recognize him, refusing to yield.
"My lord?" Thaine asked, concern evident despite his attempts to hide it.
"The forest doesn't know me." The words came out hollow. "Or it knows me but won't acknowledge me. I can feel it pulling away, like it's waiting for something else.Someoneelse."
"Malus," Halian said, speaking for the first time in hours. His voice was rough. "It's already accepting him as king."
The implications of that settled over them like a shroud. If the forest itself had turned against Eliam, if it fully recognized and accepted Malus's claim, then they were walking through enemy territory with no escape routes.
A sound drifted through the trees—not quite laughter, not quite crying, something between the two that made everyone reach for weapons. It came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing wrong in the twisted space.
"Pixies," Veroc said, his hand on his blade. "But corrupted. They're scouting."
"For what?" Briar asked, though she already knew.
"Not what, who. Whoever controls this territory now." Veroc's expression was grim. "They'll report back. Tell them exactly where you are, how many travel with you, which direction you're heading."
"Then Malus knows," Eliam said flatly.
