Page 30

T he path down into the valley was steeper than it had appeared from the ridge.

We wound through dense stands of unfamiliar pines that crowded close, their needles brushing against my arms. The air grew thicker, warmer, losing the sharp bite of the high peaks, replaced by the scent of damp earth, decaying vegetation, and something else.

A faint, sharp tang, not quite ozone like the ruins, but something mineral, metallic, that grew stronger as we approached the western edge of the valley.

I walked beside Iros, Nirako just ahead of us now, his long strides navigating the uneven terrain with ease. The easy contentment we'd felt on the ridge had evaporated, replaced by a focused alertness, a shared tension that hummed between us.

My hand felt empty now, the easy intimacy of holding his set aside for the caution this new anomaly demanded.

My senses were fully extended, filtering the normal sounds of the forest—the rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, the chirping calls of alien birds, the sigh of wind through the canopy—searching for the disturbance I'd detected.

The high-frequency whine persisted, a faint but insistent needle beneath the richer tapestry of natural sound, scraping against my awareness, making the markings at my temples itch.

And the energy patterns... they remained distinctly wrong. Unlike the stable, flowing blue harmony of the recovering mountains behind us, this section of the valley felt jittery, unstable.

My visualization showed the background energy as mostly calm, but overlaid with erratic bursts of sharp, staticky yellow light, concentrated towards the cluster of pale ghostwoods close to the base of the western cliff face.

They flared unpredictably, like geological hiccups, briefly disrupting the natural energy flow before fading again.

"The static pulses are getting stronger," I murmured to Iros, keeping my voice low. "And the whine is louder down here."

He nodded, his golden eyes scanning the dense forest ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his obsidian knife. "The air feels... thin here," he observed. "Not like altitude, but... strained. And the ground vibrates subtly, out of rhythm with the mountain's pulse."

I sensed his own lifelines reacting with unease to the unnatural energy fluctuations.

Nirako paused ahead, holding up a hand. He pointed towards the ground near the bottom of a large, gnarled tree. "Tracks," he said quietly. "Trelleth. Fresh. But moving erratically. Circling, not hunting."

I focused my hearing, visualizing the sound patterns around the tracks. I caught the faint echo of distressed chittering, the scrape of claws on rock that didn't follow a clear path.

"They sound confused," I confirmed. "Agitated. Like the energy bursts are affecting them."

Trelleth. Apex predators driven mad by energy fluctuations. A chilling echo of Rokovi's suffering. This wasn't just a geological anomaly; it was actively harming the local ecosystem. The need to understand, to potentially intervene, felt even more urgent now.

We continued cautiously, Nirako now moving with heightened alertness, reading the Trelleth tracks, while I focused on mapping the energy spikes and pinpointing the source of the whine.

It led us steadily towards the western edge of the valley, towards the pale, skeletal forms of the ghostwoods rising above the surrounding canopy by the base of a sheer cliff face.

As we drew closer, the wrongness intensified. The undergrowth thinned dramatically, the ground becoming strangely barren beneath the ghostwoods, covered in a fine, pale dust that puffed up with each step.

The trees themselves looked diseased. While ghostwoods were naturally pale, these were unnaturally large, their smooth, bone-white bark marked with strange, dark lesions, like weeping sores, that oozed a faint, oily residue.

The air hummed audibly now, the high-frequency whine becoming a distinct, unpleasant buzz that vibrated in my teeth. The static bursts in my visualization were more frequent, more intense, centered directly within the grove.

"This place feels sick," I whispered, rubbing my temples where the itching had become a dull ache. The energy here wasn't the overwhelming chaos of the Echoing Caves' core, but it was deeply unsettling—unstable, unhealthy, like touching something feverish and infected.

"Ghostwoods often grow where the mountain's energy is thin or disturbed," Nirako offered again, his voice hushed, his usual stoicism tinged with Aerie reverence and unease. "Where the deep earth breathes close to the surface. But this... this is different. The trees themselves suffer."

We stopped at the edge of the grove, peering into the unnatural stillness beneath the pale branches. No birds called here, no insects hummed.

The ground was littered with the brittle, fallen limbs characteristic of ghostwoods, but also with the small, desiccated carcasses of birds and rodent-like creatures, seemingly untouched by scavengers, as if even decomposers avoided this place.

"The energy spikes originate from the center of the grove," I reported, focusing my senses past the whine, pushing through the discomfort with Mateha's breathing techniques.

"There's something... crystalline? Geological? At the base of the largest tree, partially exposed. It pulses with the energy bursts."

Before Iros or Nirako could react, the ground beneath the central ghostwood rippled. Not a tremor shaking the whole area, but a localized distortion, like looking through moving water, accompanied by a sharp intensification of the energy whine that made me wince.

The air crackled audibly.

"Incoming spike!" I yelled, instinctively throwing myself backwards, grabbing Iros's arm to pull him with me.

A wave of visible energy, pale yellow and crackling like static discharge, erupted from the ground around the bottom of the largest ghostwood. It washed outwards through the grove, hitting the surrounding trees.

Where it touched, the dark lesions on the pale bark seemed to sizzle faintly, and the trees themselves shuddered violently, shedding showers of brittle branches and dry leaves.

The wave dissipated quickly, leaving behind a stronger smell, not just of ozone, but of sulfur, and an even more intense, high-pitched whine that scraped directly against my nerves.

"Ancestors..." Nirako breathed, staring wide-eyed at the still-crackling energy residue around the central tree. "A corrupted energy vent? Or... something worse?"

"Geological," I said, processing the energy signature now that the burst had faded slightly. "Definitely not technology. It feels like... a natural crystal formation, maybe quartz or something similar, but stressed. Fractured deep below.

It's resonating with the ambient planetary energy, but erratically, uncontrollably.

Like a damaged tuning fork screaming instead of humming.

" Could the stabilization of the Echoing Caves have sent an energy surge through the planet's natural resonance lines, overloading this already stressed formation?

"Can we approach the source?" Iros asked, his eyes fixed on the central tree, assessing the lingering energy field, his hand already on his knife.

I focused again, mapping the residual energy. "It's dissipating quickly. The ground seems stable between the pulses. But the pulses themselves... they're getting stronger, more frequent."

Another ripple distorted the air near the tree, followed by a weaker energy discharge. "Whatever it is, the stress is increasing. It might be building towards a larger release."

"We need a closer look," Iros decided, echoing my own thoughts. "Nirako, secure our flank. Jen, guide us in after the next pulse. We move quickly, assess, and withdraw."

We waited, tense, watching the ground beneath the central ghostwood. The air crackled again. Another pulse erupted, weaker this time but still potent, making the nearby leaves curl and brown.

"Now!" Iros commanded.

We moved swiftly, darting between the pale, diseased-looking trees towards the center of the grove. The ground felt strangely spongy, almost vibrating underfoot. The high-pitched whine drilled into my skull, making it hard to concentrate, making my markings ache with sympathetic resonance.

We reached the base of the largest ghostwood. Here, the ground was bare, cracked, radiating a faint heat. Partially exposed through the disturbed earth and tangled roots was not metal, but crystal.

A massive, milky-white crystalline structure, easily as tall as Iros, jutted from the ground at an unnatural angle. Its surface was marred by deep fissures, and veins of some dark, sulfurous-looking mineral snaked through it.

It hummed loudly, vibrating with the high-pitched whine, and pulsed faintly with that sickly yellow, unstable energy. It felt ancient, natural, but deeply stressed, like a bone about to snap.

"A geode?" I breathed, reaching out instinctively, then snatching my hand back as a wave of unpleasant static energy washed over my markings. "No, something... else. A natural energy conduit? A focusing crystal?"

Before we could analyze further, a low growl echoed from the edge of the grove, deeper and more guttural than before. We spun around.

The Trelleth. It had circled back. It stood at the edge of the clearing, its unnatural yellow eyes fixed on the pulsing crystal, then on us.

It looked even worse now, its movements more jerky, foam flecking its jaws. It wasn't seeing us as prey; it seemed drawn, perhaps tormented, by the crystal's erratic energy, and we were simply intruders in its zone of agony.

It lowered its head, gathering its spasming limbs, and launched itself towards us, not with a hunter's focus, but with the berserk, agonized fury of a creature driven beyond endurance.