Days blurred into a weary cycle of climbing, resting, and climbing again. The path, already treacherous, dwindled further, sometimes vanishing entirely amongst fields of frost-shattered scree or plunging into dark stands of ancient, gnarled pines. Here, the Blight seemed thicker, stranger—not just dead wood, but viscous, grey slime coating rocks and sickly fungi that pulsed with a faint, nauseating inner light. The wind carried new sounds now, not just the mournful howl through peaks, but unsettling clicks and rattles, impossible to pinpoint, that scraped along the edges of hearing.

  Isolation deepened, pressing in like the weight of the stone sky. They hadn't seen another soul, living or dead, since leaving the watchtower. Borin pointed out smoothed sections of rock where Duergar patrols once passed regularly; now, only old scuff marks remained, overlaid with dust and the occasional unnerving print of something clawed and unnatural. The Duergar himself seemed more tense, his usual stony silence now broken by frequent pauses to sniff the air or press his ear against rock faces, listening for things only he could perceive.

  Isolde leaned more heavily on her staff, the relentless cold seeping into her bones, aggravating the dull ache in her arm. She needed more frequent rests, collapsing onto frigid rocks with a weariness that Edmund noted with a tightening knot of anxiety in his chest. He scouted ahead constantly, his eyes sharp, noticing things that didn't quite fit—tracks that seemed too deliberately placed to avoid difficult terrain, rocks disturbed in patterns suggesting passage rather than random falls. Paranoia, he tried to tell himself, pushing away the echoes of Oakhaven's calculated horror. Just seeing shadows.

  "These peaks…" Borin grunted during one brief halt, gesturing towards the surrounding crags veiled in mist. "Old legends speak of things that sleep deep. Things best left undisturbed. Not Duergar workings, something… else." He didn't elaborate, retreating back into his grim silence.

  Isolde shivered, though not entirely from the cold. "The air feels… watchful," she murmured, rubbing her wrapped arm subconsciously. "Oppressive."

  The attack came without warning. They were traversing a narrow ravine, the path hemmed in by steep, crumbling walls offering plenty of shadow and cover. A horrid screech echoed from above, and then chaos erupted.

  They weren't the shambling horrors of the fens, nor even the tougher, more resilient Blighted they'd encountered earlier. These were skeletal mountain beasts—perhaps goats or large cats warped beyond recognition—their bones fused with blighted fungus, moving with a jerky, unnatural speed. And they attacked with horrifying coordination.

  One beast scrambled directly down the path, drawing their immediate attention, while two others used the ravine walls, skittering along ledges Edmund wouldn't have thought possible, flanking them with predatory cunning. A fourth lunged from behind a cluster of boulders, aiming not for Edmund or Borin, but striking directly towards Isolde.

  "Protect Isolde!" Edmund roared, shoving Borin forward and turning to meet the flanking attack, his sword flashing.

  Borin spun, his pickaxe a blur, intercepting the creature lunging for Isolde. Steel screeched against blighted bone. These things were fast, their movements unpredictable, using the terrain like seasoned hunters.

  "They're using the rocks! Flanking!" Borin yelled, shoving a creature back, its claws scrabbling against his leather apron.

  Edmund parried a blow, gritting his teeth. "Damn it, they're thinking!"

  Isolde raised her staff, a bolt of green energy cracking out to strike one of the flanking creatures, sending it tumbling from the wall. But the effort left her staggering, pain flaring in her arm. Another creature immediately took advantage, darting low, its jaws snapping inches from her leg. She cried out, stumbling backward, the focused, malevolent intent behind the attack chilling her far more than the physical danger.

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  Just as the creature lunged again at the vulnerable Isolde, a grey-fletched arrow appeared as if from nowhere, burying itself deep in the beast’s eye socket with deadly precision. The creature collapsed instantly, twitching.

  Silence fell for a heartbeat, broken only by the wind. The remaining Blighted attackers hesitated, their clouded eyes seeming to track something unseen.

  Then, a figure emerged from the shadows of an upstream bend in the ravine, moving with a fluid grace that seemed utterly out of place in the jagged landscape. Tall and slender, clad in practical, muted green and grey leathers that blended seamlessly with the rock and lichen, the figure carried a longbow with practiced ease. Pointed ears peeked through long, dark hair braided intricately with what looked like woven grasses. Their face was sharp, ageless, their eyes—a startlingly clear, pale grey—held an unnerving depth of observation. An Aelfen-Kin.

  The party reacted instantly, lowering weapons but remaining wary, turning towards the newcomer. Borin practically bristled, his hand tightening on his pickaxe, suspicion radiating from him.

  The Aelfen-Kin surveyed the scene, their gaze lingering on the fallen Blighted creatures, then shifting to the wary party. "Their movements were unnatural," the stranger stated, their voice calm, melodic, yet carrying easily over the wind. "Guided."

  "Who are you?" Edmund demanded, keeping himself positioned slightly in front of Isolde.

  The Aelfen-Kin inclined their head slightly. "I am Lyraen. A Warden of the Whisperwood." Their eyes flickered towards Isolde, a faint recognition, perhaps of the subtle magic she wielded, touching their features. "I sensed the energy surge from the south-east weeks ago. From… Oakhaven, I believe it was called?" They paused, their gaze sweeping over the party again. "It felt… different. Not merely powerful, but possessing a predatory resonance. An awareness."

  Awareness, Isolde thought, a chill tracing its way down her spine despite the Aelfen’s calm presence. Like the watchers in the fen. She felt a strange kinship with the Warden's words, a resonance of understanding, yet also a stark awareness of the pure, untainted nature-linked energy Lyraen seemed to emanate—a painful contrast to the corruption she fought within herself.

  Edmund lowered his sword slightly, though his stance remained guarded. "We were there. At Oakhaven."

  Lyraen’s pale eyes sharpened with interest. "Then perhaps you can tell me more of this… awareness. I came seeking its source, or at least its nature. Such a directed evolution of the Blight… it threatens the balance far more than the mindless decay."

  Borin scoffed, though he didn't lower his pick. "Threatens the balance? Pointy-ear concerns. It threatens survival."

  Lyraen simply regarded him with patient neutrality before turning back to Edmund and Isolde. "And your purpose in these harsh peaks?"

  "We seek Kaelen's Deep," Isolde spoke, her voice regaining some strength. "The Duergar settlement. I require knowledge of runes they may possess." She gestured vaguely towards her arm.

  Lyraen's gaze followed the gesture, understanding dawning in their ancient eyes. "Ah. The Blight leaves many scars, some deeper than others." They looked towards the north-west, the direction Borin had indicated Kaelen's Deep lay. "Our paths seem aligned, at least for now. This… coordinated malice you encountered confirms my concerns. It seems prudent we travel together."

  Edmund hesitated, glancing at Borin’s hostile expression, then at Isolde’s weary one. Another mouth to feed, another potential threat… but the Warden's skill was undeniable, and their knowledge could be invaluable. And they shared a common enemy, one seemingly growing smarter.

  "Alright," Edmund agreed slowly. "We travel together. Towards Kaelen's Deep."

  Lyraen nodded once, accepting the wary truce. They examined one of the fallen Blighted beasts, kneeling beside it, perhaps noticing subtle details the others had missed. Borin watched the Aelfen with undisguised suspicion, spitting onto the rocks before turning to lead the way once more.

  The dynamics had shifted. The small, fractured group had gained a new, enigmatic member, and the shadow of Oakhaven stretched longer and colder, hinting not just at mindless destruction, but at a dawning, unnatural intelligence stirring within the Blight itself. The road to Kaelen's Deep had just become far more complicated.