The sun hung low in the sky as Nim, Aledon, and Eliya trudged back into Cedorin. The faint glow of the Heartstone shard, safely tucked into Nim’s satchel, pulsed faintly, unnoticed by most but impossible for her to ignore. Its rhythm felt like an echo of her own anxious heart.

  As they entered the village square, murmurs spread like wildfire. The villagers’ gazes followed them, their expressions a blend of suspicion and fear. It wasn’t every day that someone ventured so deeply into the Forest of Astram and returned, much less with tales of ancient altars and trials to restore a fractured artifact.

  "Well," Aledon muttered under his breath, glancing at the gathering crowd, "it seems we’ve drawn their attention."

  Eliya stepped closer to Nim, her voice quiet but firm. "We knew they’d react this way. Let’s just go to Cedoric and explain everything."

  Before they could reach the village hall, a familiar, booming voice stopped them in their tracks.

  "Nimrielle!"

  Kalis, the priest of the Sun Temple, strode toward them, his robes catching the dying light like flames. His stern gaze locked on the group, though his words were aimed squarely at Nim.

  "You’ve returned from the forest, yet you bring no reassurance, no peace—only chaos and danger!" He pointed toward Nim, his accusatory tone loud enough for the crowd to hear. "Whatever dark magic you’ve meddled with has no place here. The village does not need another disaster!"

  Nim stood her ground, though her porcelain fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel. The priest’s words struck deeply, as they always did, but she refused to falter.

  "We found a shard of the Heartstone," she said, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "If we can restore it, the balance of the forest—and the safety of the village—will follow."

  Kalis scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Balance? Safety? And who are you to decide such things? You are no savior, Nimrielle, merely a construct built for one witch’s whim!"

  "Enough," a new voice cut through, sharp and commanding.

  Cedoric stepped into the square, his weathered face set in a deep frown. His presence silenced the growing murmurs. "If there is truth to what Nimrielle says, we owe it to ourselves to listen. This is not the time for accusations."

  He turned to Nim, his expression softening slightly. "Come. You can explain everything to the council."

  The council meeting was held in the dimly lit village hall, its air thick with tension. Kalis sat stiffly at one end of the table, his disapproval radiating like heat. Cedoric occupied the center, his steady gaze shifting between Nim and Aledon. Other council members, including Garrin the farmer and Feyria the baker, listened intently but warily.

  Nim recounted their journey into the forest, the vision she’d received at the altar, and the discovery of the shard and the map. Aledon, ever the pragmatist, detailed the map’s markings, theorizing that they pointed to locations critical for restoring the Heartstone.

  "The forest itself spoke to us," Nim concluded, her voice unwavering. "Three trials await. If we succeed, we can heal the forest—and protect the village from further harm."

  Kalis leaned forward, his scowl deepening. "And if you fail? What happens then? Do we face the wrath of these so-called trials as well?"

  Eliya, unable to hold her tongue, shot back, "Doing nothing is a far greater risk. You’ve seen the signs, haven’t you? The forest is dying, and if it falls, so does the village!"

  The room fell silent. Even Kalis, for all his bluster, couldn’t deny the growing unease that had gripped Cedorin in recent weeks.

  Cedoric broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "The council will support your efforts, Nimrielle. But understand this—we can spare little. The village cannot afford to be dragged into magical conflicts."

  Nim nodded, a mix of relief and determination washing over her. "I’ll do everything I can to keep the village safe."

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Preparations for the journey began immediately. Aledon worked tirelessly to enhance the map, casting a locator spell that caused the markings to glow faintly with a guiding light.

  "It’s not perfect," he admitted, handing the map to Nim. "The spell will guide us, but it won’t reveal obstacles or dangers along the way. Be prepared for the unexpected."

  Eliya helped gather supplies, her youthful enthusiasm now tempered by a growing sense of responsibility. For some reason, Nimrielle found herself feeling as though she's looking at a mirror when observing the girl.

  "We’ll need plenty of rations, tools, and maybe some extra charms—just in case," Eliya said, stuffing items into her pack.

  Isira approached Nim quietly, her expression a blend of curiosity and unease. "You’re taking a great risk, Nim," she said softly. "I hope this... alliance you’ve formed doesn’t cost you more than you’re willing to give."

  Nim glanced at her, uncertain of how to respond. The words felt both supportive and laden with judgment, a reflection of the complicated relationship they shared.

  As dawn broke, the group gathered at the edge of the village. A few villagers came to see them off, their faces betraying a mix of hope and fear. Garrin, despite his usual gruffness, handed Nim a small bundle of food.

  "For the journey," he said, avoiding her gaze. "Don’t waste it."

  Nim accepted the bundle with a small nod. "Thank you."

  From the steps of the Sun Temple, Kalis watched them leave, his piercing glare a reminder of the hostility they still faced.

  As they stepped into the forest, the map began to glow faintly, its light leading them deeper into the unknown. The air grew heavier, the sounds of the village fading behind them.

  The forest seemed alive, its shadows shifting unnaturally as if it, too, was preparing for the trials ahead.

  And somewhere in those shadows, a dark figure lingered, its jagged form watching silently.

  "The first trial begins," Nim whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

  For the past months, the Forest of Astram has been still, but today it was unnervingly alive. The air hummed with latent magic, a soundless vibration Nimrielle felt in her very core. She adjusted the strap of her satchel, where the shard of the Heartstone rested, its faint warmth a contrast to the cool dampness of the mist surrounding them. Beside her, Aledon scrutinized the glowing map hovering above his palm, its pulsating light leading them deeper into the ancient grove.

  Eliya, wide-eyed and clutching her own bundle of supplies, trailed behind, her footsteps careful on the uneven ground. “Does it feel... tighter to anyone else?” she asked, her voice hushed as though afraid to disturb the forest’s rhythm.

  Nim glanced around. The trees were leaning inward, their gnarled branches interlocking overhead to form a dense canopy. It was as if the forest sought to trap them within. "The forest is watching," Nim replied softly. "We’re intruders here. It will test us."

  Aledon stopped abruptly, raising a hand. "Here." He pointed to a series of faintly glowing markings scratched into the bark of the trees ahead. The symbols pulsed in time with the map’s light, a strange language that seemed almost alive. "These are no mere decorations," he murmured. "Guidance or warnings, perhaps. Either way, they mean we’re on the right path."

  The three exchanged glances, then pressed on, the tension in the air thickening with each step.

  The grove’s heart revealed itself as a clearing veiled in thick mist. A soft, melodic whisper rose from the depths, threading through the air like a song half-remembered. Nim froze, her porcelain fingers clutching her satchel. The voice was neither threatening nor kind—it was something ancient, something that bore the weight of countless years.

  “Do you hear that?” Eliya whispered.

  Aledon’s brow furrowed. “It’s not a voice; it’s intent. The forest is speaking directly to us.”

  The whispers grew clearer, forming words that seemed to hang in the mist:

  "To bind what is broken, three must act as one. If one should falter, all must come undone."

  Aledon frowned. "A riddle. The forest will make us prove ourselves."

  Branches shuddered around them, and the clearing shifted. What had been solid ground moments ago became a shifting labyrinth of roots and thorny vines. The whispers continued, offering more riddles, each more cryptic than the last.

  One wrong answer sent a tangle of vines snapping toward them, narrowly avoided by Nim’s quick reflexes. "We can’t afford mistakes," she said sharply, helping Eliya to her feet.

  Eliya nodded, her hands trembling but her gaze steady. "Then we won’t make any more."

  Together, they pieced through the riddles, their minds racing against the forest’s growing impatience. Aledon’s keen intellect, Eliya’s fresh perspective, and Nim’s intuition guided them. At last, the forest stilled, and the ground beneath them stabilized.

  The stillness was short-lived. From the mist emerged a figure—a massive Etherling wrought from bark and vines, its form vaguely humanoid but unmistakably otherworldly. Its eyes glowed with the same hue as the markings on the trees.

  “I am Verdant Thorn,” the creature intoned, its voice resonating like wind through hollow trees. “You seek the Heartstone’s path. Prove your worth, or leave this place broken.”

  Without warning, the Guardian attacked. Vines lashed out, separating the trio. Nim found herself dodging one particularly thick root, her feet skidding on the damp ground.

  “Aledon!” she called, her voice strained.

  “I’m fine!” he shouted back, summoning a crackling barrier of light to deflect the onslaught. “Keep it distracted!”

  Nim clenched her fists, calling forth the energy for Whispering Roots. She focused on the ground beneath Verdant Thorn, willing the earth to respond to her command. Her first attempt faltered, the roots barely stirring—a roll of 6.

  ‘Not enough,’ she thought, frustration tightening her chest. She tried again, pouring her determination into the spell. This time, the roots sprang to life, coiling around the Guardian’s legs—a roll of 14.

  Eliya, meanwhile, darted around the battlefield, hurling vials of alchemical fire to keep Verdant Thorn off balance. “Aledon, now!” she shouted, as the Guardian staggered under the combined assault.

  Aledon nodded, his hands weaving intricate gestures. A brilliant light erupted from his palms, slamming into the Guardian with enough force to send it reeling.

  But Verdant Thorn was far from finished. With a guttural roar, it shed its bindings and charged directly at Nim. Her heart raced as she prepared one final spell. This time, the energy coursed through her like a torrent—she rolled a natural 20.

  The ground erupted in a web of roots and vines, ensnaring Verdant Thorn completely. It thrashed and roared but could not break free.

  The Guardian stilled, its glowing eyes dimming. “You have passed the trial,” it intoned, its voice reverberating with reluctant respect. The vines retreated, and the grove seemed to sigh, its oppressive atmosphere lifting slightly.

  Nim stepped forward cautiously. “What lies ahead?” she asked.

  “The second trial,” Verdant Thorn replied. “But be warned: the forest will not be so forgiving again.”

  With that, the Guardian sank into the earth, leaving only the faint glow of the map to guide them.

  The trio regrouped, their exhaustion evident but their resolve unbroken. Aledon offered a rare smile. “Not bad, for a first trial.”

  Eliya beamed. “We did it. Together.”

  Nim managed a small smile, though her thoughts lingered on the shard in her satchel. It had pulsed faintly during the trial, as though resonating with the forest’s magic. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’ she wondered.

  As they prepared to continue their journey, the forest around them grew darker, more foreboding. The sound of distant howls echoed through the trees, and the map’s light shifted, revealing a new path.

  Their next trial awaited.