“No,youlisten tome, Vistarii. I’m sure you get off on ordering people around but—”
She paused to scowl at the hint of a smirk that I had tried my best to contain. Due to the severity of the situation, I decided to put a pin in exactly what her phrasing was bringing to my mind.
“Might I remind you that Iliterallygrew up in a forest?” she hissed.
“Asher, shut the fuck up for a second!” I hissed sharply under my breath, glaring as I put one finger over my lips.
I didn’t have time to explain to her that the northern Brindlewoods of Samhaven, while dangerous enough in their own right, had nothing on what these Wyldwoods could conjure. The Brindlewoods didn’t grow over top the singlemost point of leyline convergences in Atlas.
“Listen. Do you hear anything? Anything at all?”
Because I didn’t. The entire forest had gone silent after that crack—that flood of aether. There were no chirping birds, no chittering rodents, not even a damn cricket. Arken froze, her eyes going wide with understanding. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
I took a deep breath then, closing my eyes and focusing hard on my extended senses, trying to detect the source.
I had immediately clocked the aetherflood as one of Earth, but there was something else I felt, too—a dark presence. An aberration.
My Shadows continued to spread further into the woods, acting as my eyes and ears until I found it. Just about fifty meters away now and headed in our direction, albeit slowly. This arcana didn’t allow me to fully see things beyond my natural line of sight, but I could detect the shape of things for the most part, so long as the thing was living. If it had aether—which it did.
What was it, though?
The beast was crouched down in a thick brush, behind a pile of jagged rock and gnarled, rope-like branches that almost looked like bands of muscle, swaying in the wind. Except therewas no wind blowing tonight. The air had been still and misty since morning.
Another sharp snap, and suddenly the creature was no longer crouching.
Those weren’t branches. They werearms.
Oh Hel no.
“Don’t. Move,” I whispered, casting a frantic, pleading glance in Arken’s direction.
Anger flashed in her eyes and she opened her mouth again, most assuredly to argue. With a fast flick of my wrist, I summoned a wispy, semi-corporeal raven—a Shadowspeaker. I sent the specter towards her, silently flapping its wings and landing gently on her shoulder. As I spoke the words into the temporary arcane bond, no sound came from my mouth, but she would hear them within her mind so long as the raven was touching her.
Listen to me for once in your life, Arken. Do. Not. Move. Do. Not. Speak. I understand that you’re in a mood, but there is something extremely dangerous in these woods right now. Something that shouldn’t be here. If you focus on the raven, you can speak back to me with your thoughts. And I’ll hear you. But please, woman, I am begging you right now. Don’t make a sound. It hasn’t scented us yet.
A flash of panic crossed her face, but she remained silent and still and I almost exhaled a heavy sigh of relief when I saw her nod.
I didn’t know Shadow Conduits could do this,she sent through our invisible tether.
Most can’t, I replied. She raised an eyebrow.
I’ll explain later.
I wouldn’t, but hopefully by the time we escaped this ordeal she would forget about it… Or I’d manage to come up with a decent lie.
Where is it, Kieran… Andwhatis it?
It was… a problem.
The Leshen were not native to Aemos, but rather creatures that had crawled through the cracks within these woods and several others during the Cataclysm. Dark beasts that fed on aether, particularly Earth aether. Tall, faceless monsters of bark and bone, existing only to feed. To harvest. Born of the Abyss, and not the false one that the people of Aemos believed to be the horrifying afterlife of the damned. The true Abyss. The void.
Leshen were harbingers of death where I came from, and for good reason. They were incredibly dangerous, and incredibly hard to kill. They were also incrediblyfast.Too fast for us to flee. I silently sheathed my sword at my hip, drawing my daggers in each palm instead.
Scáthic blades for Scáthic monsters.
About forty meters now, northeast. Time for a Bios quiz, Little Conduit. Have you ever heard of the Leshen?
Oh, fuck.