The forest roared.
This time, there was not a single silent corner left to guide them.
Only screams.
The agonized cries of elves. The metallic clamor of swords clashing blindly. The violent cracking of branches beneath the feet of warriors running without direction. The purple mist swirled furiously between the trees, thickening around them as if the vegetation itself intended to suffocate their retreat.
Selvryn stopped for barely a heartbeat to catch her breath.
They had managed to evacuate three groups alive. Three. And despite their efforts, the voices crying for help in the distance were fading with every passing second.
Then a scream tore through the darkness.
—Leryn!
Selvryn's head snapped up.
An agonized voice answered from somewhere within the undergrowth. Much closer than she had expected.
—It's the last group —she warned, tightening her grip on her sword—. They're about to run straight into the corrupted.
Lusian was already moving forward at a steady pace, without slowing down.
—Then let's go.
There was no time for further questions.
Shadows began to seep from around Lusian's feet, spreading like a ravenous tide. Selvryn followed close behind, gripping her chipped sword with both hands.
—There are too many of them —the elf insisted, struggling to catch her breath—. It's the largest group. There are traumatized children and seriously wounded.
—How many are left?
—I don't know.
Lusian glanced at her, his golden eyes calm and cold.
—Then we'll reach them before we have to count them among the dead.
A chill ran down Selvryn's spine. She could not tell whether those words were meant to reassure her or terrify her.
They quickened their pace.
Ancient trunks swept past them like twisted pillars. Colossal roots emerged from the damp earth, writhing like snakes beneath their boots. The violet mist clung to their skin and burned their airways with every breath.
Suddenly, something heavy crashed onto the path ahead of them.
A body.
Selvryn dug her heels into the ground.
It was an elf. His pupils were dilated, his vacant eyes fixed upon the forest canopy.
He was already dead.
—Leryn... —she whispered.
A second corpse emerged between the roots.
Then another.
They weren't chasing them down.
They were systematically herding them.
—No... —Selvryn clenched her jaw until it hurt—. This isn't a chaotic attack. They're driving them toward a fixed point.
Lusian studied the fallen for a brief moment before turning his gaze toward the darkness ahead.
—Exactly.
—How can you be so sure?
—Because if their intention were to slaughter them here, they would have already killed them all.
Selvryn's stomach twisted.
The realization struck her like a hammer: the forest wasn't simply feeding on their casualties.
It was gathering them all into a single trap.
A monstrous roar tore through the veil of mist.
Immediately afterward, a desperate command echoed through the trees.
—RUN!
Lusian did not wait another second.
He dissolved into the darkness and disappeared.
Selvryn held her breath, her sword still raised, her body frozen beneath the accumulated tension.
The pack of corrupted elves stopped dead a few yards from the natural mana barrier.
They did not advance another inch.
They simply stood there between the trees, their completely black pupils fixed upon the survivors, before slowly fading into the thick violet mist, absorbed by the same haze that had given them form.
Keryn dropped to her knees, choking back a groan of sheer exhaustion. The children sobbed silently against their mothers' chests, while the veteran warriors struggled to catch their breath, leaning against the exposed roots.
Selvryn turned her gaze east.
The twisted trees of the Dark Forest no longer stood before them. The edge of the vegetation gave way to a vast rocky depression: a forgotten sanctuary covered in ancient ruins and protected by a natural barrier of ancient mana where, for the first time in hours, the air did not burn their lungs when they breathed.
Lusian stopped at the head of the group, observing the new territory without the slightest sign of agitation. Around him, his companions were already organizing the perimeter with military precision.
Selvryn slowly approached him, finally lowering her chipped weapon.
—They stopped us at the border —the elf said, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper—. They weren't hunting us to devour us in the forest. They forced us to cross into this place.
Lusian stared at the horizon of ancient stones before answering, his golden eyes reflecting the first rays of dawn beginning to appear beyond the forest.
—They didn't force us —Lusian said, his cold voice carrying calmly across the clearing—. They brought us exactly where we needed to be.
Selvryn clenched her jaw, feeling the weight of survival and the certainty that, although they had escaped the slaughter, the true nature of Zarhama was only beginning to reveal itself.
Then a colossal root erupted from the earth behind them.
It slammed into the ground with the force of a rockslide.
The elves screamed in panic.
Lusian raised one hand with the fluidity of a whip.
Darkness collided head-on with the ancient wood. The muffled impact sent vibrations through the foundations of the clearing.
For the first time during the entire journey, Lusian's impassive expression changed slightly.
It wasn't fear.
It was pure annoyance.
The root slowly withdrew, crawling back toward the darkness.
As though, through their brief clash, it had learned the measure of its opponent.
Selvryn's blood ran cold.
—It's watching us...
Lusian did not bother to answer.
His golden eyes remained fixed upon the high foliage, where the purple mist seemed to observe every one of their movements from the darkest corners.
Behind him, the survivors withdrew amid chaotic murmurs. Some quietly broke down in tears; others searched through the fallen leaves for their families.
The toll was bitter, and the clearing reeked of loss.
But they were alive.
Selvryn slowly lowered her chipped sword.
She had accepted the aid of these strangers out of sheer desperation.
Now, however, an uncomfortable and bitter certainty was settling over her:
Without Lusian and his group's intervention, not a single one of those souls would have made it out of the forest alive.
She looked directly at the human.
—One group is missing.
Lusian tilted his head.
—What?
—A small contingent —Selvryn swallowed with difficulty—. They split from the others before the main ambush. We have no idea where they are.
Lusian turned his gaze back toward the forest.
The mass of shadows continued twisting around his boots, hungry and impatient.
—Then we're not finished yet.
Selvryn tightened her grip around the hilt.
She looked over her people, then toward the edge of the forest, and finally fixed her eyes on the stranger who had appeared at the most critical moment.
—I warned you there would be no alliance once we set foot outside.
—I remember.
—Don't mistake this for trust.
Lusian held her gaze, expressionless.
—I don't need it either.
Selvryn frowned.
—Then what the hell are you after?
Lusian began walking toward the purple mist without slowing down.
—Keeping them alive.
Selvryn remained frozen for a brief moment.
Then she followed.
Not out of devotion.
Nor because she had found an ally.
But because, deep within that corrupted forest, trust was a luxury neither of them could afford.