Echoes Of Corruption

The sun finally crept over the horizon, its golden rays piercing through the canopy and painting the frost-covered branches in hues of orange and gold. The sudden brightness stung Ezra's tired eyes, forcing him to squint as he clung tightly to the rough bark of the massive tree.

The abominations below were long gone, retreating into whatever shadowy corners they crawled from. The oppressive weight in the air had lifted with them, leaving behind an eerie calm that felt almost fragile—like glass waiting to shatter.

Ezra hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. His fingers were raw from gripping the bark all night, and every slight creak or groan of the tree had sent his heart racing.

The fear of slipping, of plummeting to the cold ground below, had anchored him in place, keeping his muscles taut and trembling from both exhaustion and fear.

Beside him, sprawled awkwardly across the wide branch they'd found, Shirley slept like a stone. His head was tilted back, his mouth hanging open as faint snores rumbled from his throat. A thin line of drool traced its way down his scruffy beard, glistening faintly in the morning light.

Ezra stared at him, disbelief etched across his pale face. How does he sleep like that?

"Dead cat," Ezra muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Old man sleeps like he's in a feather bed while I'm up here clinging on for dear life."

He shifted slightly on the branch, trying to ease the burning ache in his shoulders and back. The bark pressed uncomfortably against him, and he grimaced as his boots slipped slightly on the dew-slick surface.

"Alright, Ezra," he said softly to himself, his lavender eyes scanning the forest floor far below. "You survived the night. Didn't fall. Didn't get eaten. That's… a win, right?

Shirley let out a loud snort mid-snore, startling Ezra enough that he almost lost his grip. The older man smacked his lips sleepily before turning onto his side, one arm dangling lazily off the branch.

Ezra sighed, rubbing his face with one trembling hand. His stomach growled angrily, reminding him of just how long it had been since he'd last eaten.

"Great," he muttered dryly. "Survive the monsters, only to starve to death in a tree. Perfect ending to a heroic tale."

Steeling himself, Ezra began climbing down the massive tree. His descent was slow, every muscle in his body protesting after the grueling night. When his feet finally hit the frost-covered grass with a soft plop, he exhaled shakily. The air felt different in the daylight—less oppressive, but still eerily quiet.

Ezra made his way toward where he'd seen the barrier the previous night. The memory of the monsters being unable to pass through it was still vivid in his mind. Standing in the spot, he scanned his surroundings. Everything looked normal—too normal.

"I'm pretty sure it was here," he muttered to himself, extending his hands and feeling for the invisible wall. He walked a few paces in either direction, his fingers brushing through the air, searching for the faint resistance he'd felt before. But there was nothing. The barrier, if it was still there, was undetectable now.

Frustrated, Ezra crouched down, brushing his fingers against the grass. There were faint markings on the ground, indentations left behind by the abomination's massive footsteps from the night before. They ended abruptly, right where the barrier should have been.

He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the clearing again. Daylight flooded the area, and with the sun overhead, the forest seemed less menacing. The shadows that had loomed large during the night were now diminished, their edges softened by the golden light.

"Well… nothing to do but explore," Ezra muttered, glancing back toward the tree. He studied its position carefully, memorizing the surroundings before heading into the thick forest.

The tall trees quickly enveloped him as he walked deeper. Their dense canopy blocked out much of the sunlight, casting long, shifting shadows on the forest floor. The air here was colder, still carrying a faint chill from the frost of the night before. Every crunch of leaves underfoot sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.

Ezra didn't know how long he had been walking, his boots crunching against the forest floor in a steady rhythm. The tall trees around him seemed to stretch endlessly, their looming forms casting elongated shadows. Just as he was beginning to feel the weight of the endless trek, he stumbled into a bushy clearing.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of place.

The grass was vibrant and green, the trees stood tall and proud, and the sunlight filtered through the canopy above in soft golden beams. Yet, something gnawed at the edges of his awareness—an inexplicable feeling that something was off. The air felt heavier here, charged with an almost imperceptible tension.

Ezra's eyes scanned the clearing warily, his instincts prickling. As he turned to his right, he froze. His breath hitched as his gaze locked onto something familiar and deeply unsettling.

The same dark black slime from the night before was etched into the bark of one of the trees, its glossy surface glinting faintly in the sunlight. It streaked down the trunk in jagged lines, like veins of corruption, and pooled slightly at the base. Splashes of the same substance stained the grass, their inky blackness stark against the vibrant green.

Ezra crouched down, his fingers hovering just above one of the blackened patches of grass. A faint, acrid smell wafted upward, making him wrinkle his nose. The slime looked viscous, almost alive, as it clung stubbornly to whatever it touched.

"What is this stuff?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His mind raced back to the bird-like creature and its abominable master from the night before. The slime had been present then too, oozing from the wounds of the resurrected monsters.

He straightened slowly, his eyes darting around the clearing. Every rustle of leaves and creak of branches now seemed amplified, every shadow a potential threat. His pulse quickened as he realized this was no ordinary clearing.

Something had been here—and recently.