Valera’s breath caught within her throat. It lodged itself there, holding fast, while her eyes roved over Verdant Grove.
More accurately, while they roved over what it had become.
Though she had never visited it herself, the refugees that had arrived at Orken had painted a vivid picture within her mind. It was one of soaring crop-towers, filled to the brim with plants that could hardly be found outside the influence of a Nature Core’s field of influence, with supporting columns that spoke to the city’s longstanding tradition of artistic carvings. For the most part, they had been a city of artists and farmers, long kept safe by the null-water that bordered them. Their source of food had seemed neverending, and their culture had reflected that, spawning traditions and finery that Orken never had - and probably never would, even with its most recent changes.
Now, Valera could only see glimpses of what once was. The crop-towers, though just as large and numerous as before, were lined with vines and roots that draped themselves across the tower surfaces, blotting out the carvings below with curtains of green and brown. The bridges that ran across them, arching from one tower to another, were much the same; some of the lower paths were even nearly hidden in their entirety, cloaked by the vines that dangled down from the archways above.
A great darkwood tree rose above the city itself, surpassing the crop-towers themselves in its massive size. Giant roots spread across the city, shattering buildings and bridges in their efforts to avoid the danger of the null-water. They twisted and wound around themselves through the broken streets, blocking off paths in a frustrating display of either intelligence or pure happenstance, building a maze out of the city’s paths. Even if the roots themselves couldn’t easily move from where they had fallen and were simply obstacles, they would be a problem. There was far too much for them to burn their way through, especially with the other dangers that would need to be dealt with.
Then, of course, they did move. The root-maze shifted and twisted upon itself, opening new paths and closing others. The crash and clatter of shattered stone filled the cavern, a building here and there breathing its last breath as the roots finally brought it down in full. The shifting of the maze was an extremely slow process, the massive roots moving just as sluggishly as their size would imply, but it was one that changed the layout of the city itself. Streets that were once open became blocked, while previously-blocked streets became clear paths.
She was feeling frustrated before they had even begun.
Even worse, a mist of verdant green floated about within the maze that the ruins had become, blocking Valera’s vision as it spread and died out and spread again - and while it would have been fitting if the mist had been the reason for Verdant Grove’s name, she knew that it wasn’t.
It was something new.
But in the end, it wasn’t the changes to the city itself that stole her breath away. It was the things that walked within the mists, limbs jerking unnaturally. It was the people, if they could still be called that.
Valera desperately hoped that they could be, though she had her doubts.
Most of them wore clothes that were ragged and ripped, covered in grime. The tattered pieces hung across gaunt, skeletal bodies in billowy pieces, as if they were made for people much larger than their current wearers. Others, though, wore something different - metal armor that glowed with the light of mana, and weapons that shone with the same dangerous light.
All of them were wrong, covered in masses of green-black veins that almost seemed to ripple beneath the surface of their skin. Their continued survival told Valera all she needed to know.
Something had happened to them; the Nature Core had claimed them somehow. Twisted them somehow, made monsters of men.
The thought was enraging. The thought was sickening. The thought that she would have to kill them might have been even worse.
Getting into the ruined city was...difficult. After descending the slope to the null-water’s edge, they found that the boats were nearly all gone - destroyed, unmoored, or otherwise unusable. It had taken quite a bit of searching to find one close enough that was in decent shape, and even then it hadn’t been easy. It floated on the null-water’s surface, far from reach, yet closer than any of the others. Close enough, with Kala around.
The archer rummaged through her pack for the longest thread that she could find, tying it fast to one of her arrows before sending it deep into the boat’s prow. After that, it was just a matter of pulling the thing in, careful to not pull too fast or too hard. Even a little bit of null-water spilling into the boat would have been a problem, with how carefully they’d have had to avoid touching it.
The ride over was quiet; while the minions of a Nature Core wouldn’t normally have good hearing - or any at all, possibly - things appeared to be different this time. Nobody wanted the once-humans that walked in the mist to hear them. Nobody wanted to have to cut them down.
The borrowed boat cut across the null-water, moving towards the ruined city at its center. Wood creaked and water burbled, signals of their advance. The city seemed to answer as a dying building breathed its last, collapsing with a deafening clatter.
A few shrieks and cries rose from the city center, barely audible. Inhuman, but close to human. The Little Guardian hissed; Valera reached up to soothe his scales, taking her own comfort in the act. Her fingers brushed across glossy scales, one stroke for every shriek.
Finally, they made landfall, their borrowed boat pressing against the remnants of the docks with a quiet thunk. She froze; the others froze along with her.
Nothing. The boat was secured to the nearest post.
A quick sweep over the dock’s surface revealed that it was free from plantlife, so they quietly walked across its bobbing surface, eyeing the nearby growths that may or may not have been enemies.
That was the problem with a rampant Nature Core - not all plants were necessarily mutated yet, and taking the time to deal with each and every thing in their path would be exhausting enough that it might leave them vulnerable.
It was enough to set anyone on edge.
If it weren’t for the mist and its walkers, they might have tried to simply set the entire city on fire. Though it wouldn’t have gotten rid of everything, it would at least clear a foothold, somewhere that they could be sure was safe.
But, unlike most of the Nature Core’s defenders, the enemies that walked in the mist were neither stationary nor particularly flammable. Even worse, the flames would have alerted them. From what little she had seen, Valera was sure that there were enough within the city to easily overwhelm their group - especially considering that there were what appeared to be former Seekers walking within the mist.
For the next while, she caught flashes of movement in the corners of her eyes; a flicker of green, a flash of brown. She turned her head, and caught nothing. The mist drifted, same as it always did. The roots around her held still, refusing to attack. Valera cut a few, slicing them into pieces. Still, they didn’t react, even when she felt sure that they would.
It was unnerving. Unsettling. Wrong.
Spits and snarls, mixed with noises that might have been almost words, drifted from the mist and over the buildings.
A child’s cry, maddening in its anguish. That sound was the worst; while she didn’t think it was real, as no child should have survived within the Core’s influence, she could have been wrong. Valera pushed the thought down.
The group moved on, pushing further into the maze of roots and ruins. Their route turned and twisted with every sight of the mist, forcing them to backtrack to avoid it. Nobody said anything, but they didn’t need to.
They all knew there was something dangerous about the mist, even beyond the shrieks and snarls that spilled from its depths.
They would find another way.
The child’s cry came again, closer this time. It sobbed and sniffled. Valera ignored it, fingers flexing around her blades in a white-knuckled grip.
It’s not real; there’s no children to save. There can’t be, it’s been far too long.
Her hands started to hurt. They kept walking.
When the attack finally came, it was almost a relief. Roots burst from the ground in a cloud of dust, reaching for her feet. She threw herself to the side, smashing against the wall of a building; an indignant hiss rang in her ear.
The roots reached out again; she met them with a flash of metal, and a spurt of blue fire flared from her shoulder. They reared back in what she hoped was pain, giving her a moment of reprieve. The others weren’t so lucky, still being harried by a flurry of entangling roots.
She stepped forward again, moving to come to their aid.
Something slammed into her from above, forcing the breath from her lungs and her knees to the ground. Her armor audibly shrieked as claws and teeth scraped uselessly against it, with only a tiny cut here or there slipping between the gaps.
Her breath came back, and her strength came with it. Valera threw herself around in a vicious roll, dropping one blade to reach around and slam her attacker to the ground. The other stabbed downward, piercing the thing’s throat.
Valera’s eyes widened.
Piercing the child’s throat, its skin colored in veins of green and black, its breath leaking tiny spouts of green mist. Before she could do anything more, it violently jerked towards her, pulling itself up the blade’s edge.
It died before reaching her.
In some ways, that almost felt worse.
Zendran
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Valera’s breath caught within her throat. It lodged itself there, holding fast, while her eyes roved over Verdant Grove.
More accurately, while they roved over what it had become.
Though she had never visited it herself, the refugees that had arrived at Orken had painted a vivid picture within her mind. It was one of soaring crop-towers, filled to the brim with plants that could hardly be found outside the influence of a Nature Core’s field of influence, with supporting columns that spoke to the city’s longstanding tradition of artistic carvings. For the most part, they had been a city of artists and farmers, long kept safe by the null-water that bordered them. Their source of food had seemed neverending, and their culture had reflected that, spawning traditions and finery that Orken never had - and probably never would, even with its most recent changes.
Now, Valera could only see glimpses of what once was. The crop-towers, though just as large and numerous as before, were lined with vines and roots that draped themselves across the tower surfaces, blotting out the carvings below with curtains of green and brown. The bridges that ran across them, arching from one tower to another, were much the same; some of the lower paths were even nearly hidden in their entirety, cloaked by the vines that dangled down from the archways above.
A great darkwood tree rose above the city itself, surpassing the crop-towers themselves in its massive size. Giant roots spread across the city, shattering buildings and bridges in their efforts to avoid the danger of the null-water. They twisted and wound around themselves through the broken streets, blocking off paths in a frustrating display of either intelligence or pure happenstance, building a maze out of the city’s paths. Even if the roots themselves couldn’t easily move from where they had fallen and were simply obstacles, they would be a problem. There was far too much for them to burn their way through, especially with the other dangers that would need to be dealt with.
Then, of course, they did move. The root-maze shifted and twisted upon itself, opening new paths and closing others. The crash and clatter of shattered stone filled the cavern, a building here and there breathing its last breath as the roots finally brought it down in full. The shifting of the maze was an extremely slow process, the massive roots moving just as sluggishly as their size would imply, but it was one that changed the layout of the city itself. Streets that were once open became blocked, while previously-blocked streets became clear paths.
She was feeling frustrated before they had even begun.
Even worse, a mist of verdant green floated about within the maze that the ruins had become, blocking Valera’s vision as it spread and died out and spread again - and while it would have been fitting if the mist had been the reason for Verdant Grove’s name, she knew that it wasn’t.
It was something new.
But in the end, it wasn’t the changes to the city itself that stole her breath away. It was the things that walked within the mists, limbs jerking unnaturally. It was the people, if they could still be called that.
Valera desperately hoped that they could be, though she had her doubts.
Most of them wore clothes that were ragged and ripped, covered in grime. The tattered pieces hung across gaunt, skeletal bodies in billowy pieces, as if they were made for people much larger than their current wearers. Others, though, wore something different - metal armor that glowed with the light of mana, and weapons that shone with the same dangerous light.
All of them were wrong, covered in masses of green-black veins that almost seemed to ripple beneath the surface of their skin. Their continued survival told Valera all she needed to know.
Something had happened to them; the Nature Core had claimed them somehow. Twisted them somehow, made monsters of men.
The thought was enraging. The thought was sickening. The thought that she would have to kill them might have been even worse.
Getting into the ruined city was...difficult. After descending the slope to the null-water’s edge, they found that the boats were nearly all gone - destroyed, unmoored, or otherwise unusable. It had taken quite a bit of searching to find one close enough that was in decent shape, and even then it hadn’t been easy. It floated on the null-water’s surface, far from reach, yet closer than any of the others. Close enough, with Kala around.
The archer rummaged through her pack for the longest thread that she could find, tying it fast to one of her arrows before sending it deep into the boat’s prow. After that, it was just a matter of pulling the thing in, careful to not pull too fast or too hard. Even a little bit of null-water spilling into the boat would have been a problem, with how carefully they’d have had to avoid touching it.
The ride over was quiet; while the minions of a Nature Core wouldn’t normally have good hearing - or any at all, possibly - things appeared to be different this time. Nobody wanted the once-humans that walked in the mist to hear them. Nobody wanted to have to cut them down.
The borrowed boat cut across the null-water, moving towards the ruined city at its center. Wood creaked and water burbled, signals of their advance. The city seemed to answer as a dying building breathed its last, collapsing with a deafening clatter.
A few shrieks and cries rose from the city center, barely audible. Inhuman, but close to human. The Little Guardian hissed; Valera reached up to soothe his scales, taking her own comfort in the act. Her fingers brushed across glossy scales, one stroke for every shriek.
Finally, they made landfall, their borrowed boat pressing against the remnants of the docks with a quiet thunk. She froze; the others froze along with her.
Nothing. The boat was secured to the nearest post.
A quick sweep over the dock’s surface revealed that it was free from plantlife, so they quietly walked across its bobbing surface, eyeing the nearby growths that may or may not have been enemies.
That was the problem with a rampant Nature Core - not all plants were necessarily mutated yet, and taking the time to deal with each and every thing in their path would be exhausting enough that it might leave them vulnerable.
It was enough to set anyone on edge.
If it weren’t for the mist and its walkers, they might have tried to simply set the entire city on fire. Though it wouldn’t have gotten rid of everything, it would at least clear a foothold, somewhere that they could be sure was safe.
But, unlike most of the Nature Core’s defenders, the enemies that walked in the mist were neither stationary nor particularly flammable. Even worse, the flames would have alerted them. From what little she had seen, Valera was sure that there were enough within the city to easily overwhelm their group - especially considering that there were what appeared to be former Seekers walking within the mist.
For the next while, she caught flashes of movement in the corners of her eyes; a flicker of green, a flash of brown. She turned her head, and caught nothing. The mist drifted, same as it always did. The roots around her held still, refusing to attack. Valera cut a few, slicing them into pieces. Still, they didn’t react, even when she felt sure that they would.
It was unnerving. Unsettling. Wrong.
Spits and snarls, mixed with noises that might have been almost words, drifted from the mist and over the buildings.
A child’s cry, maddening in its anguish. That sound was the worst; while she didn’t think it was real, as no child should have survived within the Core’s influence, she could have been wrong. Valera pushed the thought down.
The group moved on, pushing further into the maze of roots and ruins. Their route turned and twisted with every sight of the mist, forcing them to backtrack to avoid it. Nobody said anything, but they didn’t need to.
They all knew there was something dangerous about the mist, even beyond the shrieks and snarls that spilled from its depths.
They would find another way.
The child’s cry came again, closer this time. It sobbed and sniffled. Valera ignored it, fingers flexing around her blades in a white-knuckled grip.
It’s not real; there’s no children to save. There can’t be, it’s been far too long.
Her hands started to hurt. They kept walking.
When the attack finally came, it was almost a relief. Roots burst from the ground in a cloud of dust, reaching for her feet. She threw herself to the side, smashing against the wall of a building; an indignant hiss rang in her ear.
The roots reached out again; she met them with a flash of metal, and a spurt of blue fire flared from her shoulder. They reared back in what she hoped was pain, giving her a moment of reprieve. The others weren’t so lucky, still being harried by a flurry of entangling roots.
She stepped forward again, moving to come to their aid.
Something slammed into her from above, forcing the breath from her lungs and her knees to the ground. Her armor audibly shrieked as claws and teeth scraped uselessly against it, with only a tiny cut here or there slipping between the gaps.
Her breath came back, and her strength came with it. Valera threw herself around in a vicious roll, dropping one blade to reach around and slam her attacker to the ground. The other stabbed downward, piercing the thing’s throat.
Valera’s eyes widened.
Piercing the child’s throat, its skin colored in veins of green and black, its breath leaking tiny spouts of green mist. Before she could do anything more, it violently jerked towards her, pulling itself up the blade’s edge.
It died before reaching her.
In some ways, that almost felt worse.
Zendran
Discord
(Make sure to select a role to view the server's channels)
Patreon to read 30 chapters ahead
