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nnaturalheatthatseemedtosucktheverybreathfrommylungs.Inthecenteroftheclearingstoodanancient,twistedtree,itsbranchesreachingtowardstheskylikeskeletalfingers.
Aethera‘sgriponmyhandtightenedasshegazeduponthetree.Hereyesseemedtobelockedontosomeunseentarget,herexpressionamixofaweandtrepidation.
“Whatisthisplace?“Iwhispered,tryingtokeepmyvoicesteadydespitethefearthatthreatenedtoconsumeme.
Thefigurereappeared,itspresencetoweringoveruslikeamonolithofshadowanddarkness.Itsgazeseemedtoboreintomysoul,itseyesburningwithaninnerfirethatmademyskincrawlwithdread.
“ThisistheHeartwood,“itboomedthroughtheclearing,echoingoffthetreeslikeachallenge.“HereliesthesourceoftheShadow‘spower.“
Aethera‘sgriponmyhandtightenedasshegazeduponthetree.Iknewthatlook,hadseenitbefore-itwasthelookofsomeonewhowasreadytofacewhateverhorrorslayahead.
Wewereinthistogether,nomatterwhatlayahead.Andwithadeepbreath,Isteeledmyselfforwhatwastocome.
Together,wewouldfacetheHeartwood,andwhateverterrorslaywithinitstwistedbranches.