My wings caught the afternoon air as we rose above the canopy. The elven clothes—Isabella’s spatial ring had contained far more practical options than the ceremonial nonsense from town—moved with me instead of fighting every movement. The tunic’s reinforced seams held firm as my wings extended fully.

  Faith flew beside me, her own wings adjusting to the thermals with increasing confidence. She’d come far in the past week.

  We covered the fifteen kilometres in less than thirty minutes. The forest stretched beneath us in an unbroken carpet of green until the colour shifted—a darker patch spreading like a stain across the landscape.

  “There,” Isabella pointed.

  We descended into a clearing at the edge of the affected zone. My boots touched down on moss that should’ve been soft but felt brittle beneath my weight. The forest had gone completely silent. No bird calls. No insect buzz. Not even wind rustling through leaves.

  The trees themselves looked wrong. Not dead—worse. Their bark had taken on a greyish tinge, and the leaves hung motionless despite the breeze that had carried us here.

  “Okay.” Aria stepped closer to me. “This is spooooky.”

  She drew out the word like a mortal child trying to frighten their friends, but her tail had wrapped tight around her left thigh. An unconscious tell.

  I scanned the treeline. Nothing moved. “What do you think caused it?”

  “Could be blight,” Isabella said. “Some fungal diseases can spread through root systems.”

  Faith crouched near one of the affected trees. Her fingers traced patterns in the air about two inches from the bark’s surface. “Not disease. Curse work.”

  We all turned to stare at her.

  “How did you know that?” Aria asked.

  “What?” Faith looked up, genuine confusion crossing her features. “VCD might’ve specialized in vampires, but we had mandatory training in general occult phenomena. You think every supernatural threat announces itself clearly?”

  “You can identify curse patterns?” I moved closer to where she knelt.

  “Basic ones, yeah.” Faith’s hand continued its motion through empty air. “See how the damage radiates outward from a central point? And the way it’s affecting living matter uniformly regardless of species? That’s not natural progression. Something imposed this.”

  Isabella pulled out a small crystal from her spatial ring. She held it near the tree Faith had been examining. The crystal’s usual soft glow turned muddy brown.

  “She’s right. This is definitely magical corruption.”

  I pressed my palm against another affected tree. The bark felt cold—far colder than ambient temperature could explain. My magical senses picked up residual energy clinging to the wood like oil on water. Dark and viscous and completely wrong for this realm.

  “So someone cursed the forest?” Aria wrapped her arms around herself. “Who does that? What’s the point?”

  “Containment, maybe?” Faith stood and brushed moss from her knees. “Or preparation for something larger. Hard to tell without finding the source.”

  “Then we need to look for traces.” I withdrew my hand from the tree. “Find where the curse originated and work backward from there.”

  Isabella was already moving deeper into the affected zone. “The pattern suggests a central anchor point. Follow the strongest concentration.”

  We spread out slightly, each of us testing the ambient magic as we advanced. The silence pressed against my ears. Even our footsteps seemed muffled, as though the curse had swallowed sound itself along with movement and colour.

  This wasn’t the adventure Faith had been hoping for. But it was certainly more interesting than elven succession debates.

  * * *

  The corruption intensified the deeper we went. Grey bark gave way to trees that looked almost petrified, their branches frozen mid-sway.

  “You know,” Aria said, stepping over a root system that had turned black, “at worst this is probably some stray necromancer experimenting with forest curses. Maybe they got bored terrorizing villages.”

  “Or best case,” she continued, her tone brightening, “demon cultists! We could totally crash their ritual.”

  Isabella tested another tree with her crystal. The muddy brown had deepened to almost black. “Whatever it is won’t stand against us. The dimensional barriers here are quite lax—probably from the dragons raising the ceiling considerably.”

  She had a point. Dragons counted among the realm’s dominant species, which meant the power restrictions on interdimensional travelers sat much higher than Earth’s limits.

  Faith scanned the treeline ahead, her red eyes tracking movement patterns I couldn’t detect. “Don’t get overconfident.”

  “I’m sticking with Faith on this one,” I said. “Who knows, maybe we’ll luck out and find something actually interesting to solve.”

  Aria laughed. “Princess, your idea of ‘interesting’ usually ends with someone trying to kill us.”

  “That’s happened exactly three times.”

  “In eight months!”

  We continued forward, following the concentration of corrupt magic as it led us northeast. Faith maintained point position, her VCD training evident in how she checked sight lines and natural ambush points. Aria alternated between complaining about the lack of proper shoes for forest hiking and speculating about what kind of ritual components a demon cultist might stockpile.

  Isabella remained quiet, though her crystal stayed in her hand, its glow darkening with each kilometre we covered.

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  The forest opened suddenly into a clearing that ended at a sheer cliff face. Grey stone rose thirty metres straight up, covered in patches of dying moss.

  Aria stopped. “That’s it? We followed curse to a rock wall?”

  “There should be a hidden entrance.” Faith approached the cliff, her hands moving in those same patterns through the air. “The magical signature concentrates here, then vanishes. Not dissipates—vanishes. That means concealment.”

  We spread out along the cliff face, searching for seams or irregularities in the stone. My fingers traced the rock’s surface, feeling for temperature variations or magical resonance that might indicate illusion work.

  “Here.” Faith pressed her palm flat against what looked like solid stone. Her hand sank through to the wrist.

  An illusion spell. Sophisticated enough that even close inspection showed nothing but rock and moss.

  I walked forward. The stone appeared completely solid until my face was inches away, then the texture seemed to ripple like water. I stepped through.

  The corridor beyond stretched ahead into darkness, lit by torches burning with blue flames that cast no heat. The walls had been carved smooth—too smooth for natural formation. Tool marks scored the stone in regular patterns.

  Aria emerged through the illusion behind me. “Okay, now this is getting interesting.”

  Isabella followed, her crystal’s glow shifting from muddy brown to deep purple. “The curse originates from here. We’re close to the source.”

  Faith took point again, moving down the corridor with her back to one wall. The blue flames flickered as we passed but never went out.

  The passage descended at a gentle slope. No branching paths yet. Just smooth stone and those impossible blue torches every ten metres.

  “How deep do you think this goes?” Aria asked, her earlier levity tempered by genuine curiosity now.

  “Deep enough to hide something worth protecting with magic.” I kept my hand near my spatial ring, ready to summon a weapon if necessary.

  The corridor continued downward into darkness beyond the torchlight’s reach.

  * * *

  The corridor levelled out after what felt like twenty minutes of steady descent. The blue flames had become our only light source, their unnatural glow painting everything in cold tones that made depth perception difficult.

  Faith stopped.

  The passage opened into a chamber carved from the same smooth stone. A circular room, maybe fifteen metres across. The walls curved upward into a domed ceiling lost in shadow above the torchlight’s reach.

  An altar dominated the centre. Dark stone, waist-high, with a sword embedded vertically in its surface.

  Golden chains wrapped around the blade, ethereal and shimmering with residual magic. Several links had fractured, their broken edges floating inches apart as if the damage had been frozen mid-moment.

  I approached slowly. The sword’s crossguard caught the blue torchlight—ornate metalwork that might have been beautiful once. Now it looked tarnished, the metal blackened as if exposed to intense heat.

  A pedestal stood before the altar. Runes covered its surface, glowing faintly.

  I knelt to read them. The script was old, but still legible.

  Here lies Durendal. Once blade of light, now corrupted beyond redemption. Bound to rest eternal. Touch it not—for its power demands payment in souls. What strength it grants shall consume the wielder utterly. Let none who value their existence disturb these chains.

  “I think we found the curse source,” I said.

  Aria stepped past me to examine the sword more closely. “So we destroy the binding and take it. Problem solved—no more forest corruption.”

  “Is that wise?” Faith circled the altar from the opposite direction, her eyes tracking the chain patterns. “The warning exists for a reason.”

  “We’re demons.” Aria gestured at the inscription. “These kinds of weapons are made specifically to fuck with mortals. We’re immune to corruption or whatever bullshit this thing radiates.” She turned to Faith. “Besides, if we take it, the mortals here won’t have to worry about some unholy blade leaking curse magic into their precious forest.”

  Faith tilted her head. “That’s… actually a good point.”

  “See?”

  “It might not be that simple.” Isabella circled the altar, keeping her distance from the chains.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The sword is watching us.” Isabella leaned in slightly. “I can feel its attention shifting between each of us. This could be an ego weapon.”

  “Ego weapon?” Faith asked.

  “Sentient blade. Usually contains a soul or multiple souls fused with the metal itself. They choose their wielders, not the other way around.”

  The eye opened on the hilt.

  A single red iris, human-shaped but far too large. It swivelled, focusing on each of us in turn.

  The blade trembled. Chains rattled against the altar’s surface, holding but straining against sudden pressure from within.

  Dark energy exploded outward in a wave.

  It passed through us harmlessly—my skin prickled with the sensation of cobwebs brushing across my face. The corruption that had killed the forest above, concentrated and deliberate.

  The eye closed.

  Silence returned.

  “That answers both questions,” I said. My heart had accelerated despite the lack of actual danger.

  Aria was already moving toward the altar. “First one to claim it gets to keep it.”

  “Wait—” Faith started forward, but Aria had already reached the sword.

  She wrapped both hands around the hilt and pulled.

  Nothing happened.

  * * *

  Aria’s fingers whitened around the hilt. Her shoulders tensed. Nothing.

  She shifted her grip and pulled harder, muscles straining against her shirt.

  Still nothing.

  “Come on,” she muttered. Her tail lashed behind her. “Move, you stubborn piece of—”

  The sword didn’t budge a millimetre.

  I pressed my hand to my mouth, but the sound escaped anyway—a quiet laugh.

  Aria’s head snapped toward me. “Something funny?”

  “A little.”

  She growled and released the hilt. Purple light flickered around her palms as magic gathered.

  “Don’t.” Isabella’s voice cut sharp across the chamber. “You’ll bring the ceiling down on us.”

  The magic dissipated. Aria stepped back, crossing her arms. “Fine.” She glared at the sword, then looked at the rest of us. “Anyone else want to try? Or are we all just going to stand here and watch me make a fool of myself?”

  I turned to Faith. “Maybe you should give it a shot.”

  Faith blinked. “Why me?”

  “Arborea was your pick.” I gestured at the altar. “You should try first. Well—technically second.” I glanced at Aria.

  Aria gave me a flat stare. “What?”

  “Nothing.” I looked back at Faith. “What do you say?”

  Faith exhaled slowly through her nose. “Fine. But if I can’t pull it out either, we leave it alone and try the human settlement. No additional tries from anyone.”

  I smiled. “Deal.”

  Faith sighed again and approached the altar.

  The moment her fingers closed around the blackened metal, the red eye opened.

  It fixed on Faith’s face.

  The blade shifted. Just a fraction—barely visible—but it moved upward against the chains.

  Golden links buckled inward, straining to force the sword back down.

  “It didn’t even move for me!” Aria’s voice pitched higher. “Not even a—”

  The blade rose another inch.

  “—actually, keep going!” Aria bounced on her toes. “Pull! Come on!”

  Faith set her jaw and hauled backward.

  The chains groaned. Metal scraped against stone as Durendal slid free, inch by agonising inch.

  “Yes!” Aria pumped her fist. “Almost there!”

  With a final wrenching sound, the sword came loose.

  The golden chains evaporated into motes of light that faded before reaching the floor.

  Durendal gleamed in Faith’s grip—black metal catching the blue torchlight, the red eye still open and staring.

  The blade trembled. Not from Faith’s hands—the weapon itself was shaking, vibrating with some internal struggle.

  “Shut. Up.” Faith’s voice dropped to something cold and flat. Her glamour flickered and vanished for a heartbeat, then snapped back into place.

  The sword went still.

  The eye remained open but… quiet. Watching.

  I stared.

  What the hell just happened?