Chapter 4: The Broken Threshold

Kealen crashed into the stone floor with a bone-jarring thud, his body bouncing and skidding across the jagged surface. For a few seconds, all he could do was lie there, stunned, his mind barely processing the agony radiating from every inch of his battered frame. The air was forced from his lungs on impact, and he lay gasping, his ribs burning as if they had been crushed under the weight of the Shadow Stalker's claws.

Pain flooded his senses, an all-consuming fire. His shoulder felt like it had been ripped apart, his chest ached with every shallow breath, and his legs throbbed with a deep, bone-deep weariness. His head pounded, sharp and insistent, and he tasted the tang of blood in his mouth. It was a miracle, or a curse, that he was still alive.

With a strangled groan, Kealen forced himself onto his side. His bloodied hand dragged across the stone, finding purchase on the rough surface. His mind screamed for him to rest, but the memory of what was behind him, the roar, the claws, the shadows, wouldn't let him stop. He had no time. The Stalker had been right on his heels. He didn't know how much time he had bought by diving through the archway, but he was certain it wasn't much.

His gaze drifted to the archway itself, its massive structure rising behind him. The runes etched into the stone were cracked, flickering like dying embers. Beyond it, the mist from the Whispering Grove swirled and seethed, slamming against the invisible barrier as though furious that he had escaped. The mist writhed like a living thing, reaching claw-like tendrils toward him, but they dissolved before crossing the threshold.

For now.

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Notification:

You have escaped the Whispering Grove.

Sanity +5 (Temporary). Shadow Corruption: Stable (20%).

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Kealen blinked at the floating words, his vision blurring in and out of focus. His body shook violently, his blood-soaked fingers twitching at his sides. Corruption. The word stuck in his mind, a thorn he couldn't pull free. He glanced down at his chest, and his breath hitched.

The wounds left by the Shadow Stalker weren't just deep, they were wrong. Dark tendrils of shadow coiled inside the gashes, writhing and shifting under his torn skin like worms. They pulsed faintly, their movements unnatural, sending a wave of nausea rolling through him. The shadows weren't healing him; they were invading him.

"No… no, no, no." Kealen's voice was weak, cracked, barely more than a whisper. His hands trembled as he clutched at his chest, trying to force the darkness out, but it was like trying to claw water from his skin. The shadows ignored him, spreading deeper into his body, burrowing into his flesh.

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Status Updated:

Shadow-Touched: You are marked by the Aelderwood. Healing accelerated. Corruption progresses over time. Prolonged exposure will result in permanent effects.

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"Stop," Kealen rasped, his voice shaking. "Get out of me." He pressed his fists to his chest, his nails digging into his skin, but the shadows didn't care. They pulsed under his flesh, a reminder that his body was no longer entirely his own.

The sound of stone grinding against stone made him freeze. His head snapped toward the archway, and his blood ran cold.

The mist was pressing harder now, swirling violently against the barrier. Cracks spiderwebbed across the runes carved into the arch, the faint light within them flickering as the forest beyond grew louder. The oppressive whispers from the Grove rose in pitch, an unholy choir of voices screaming in unison.

And then it happened.

A massive, jagged claw slammed through the threshold, black as night and dripping with inky ichor. The claw tore at the stone, widening the crack in the barrier. The runes flared one last time before shattering, their light extinguished.

"No…" Kealen whispered, his voice trembling. "No, no, no."

The claw was followed by another. Then a grotesque, shifting mass of shadow began to push through the broken threshold. The Stalker was coming.

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Notification:

You are being pursued.

Threat Level: Critical.

Escape or face annihilation.

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Kealen didn't wait to see the Stalker's full form emerge. He forced himself to his feet, his body screaming in protest, and stumbled toward the narrow hallway at the far end of the chamber. His legs felt like they were made of lead, his chest heaved with shallow, ragged breaths, and the edges of his vision blurred with exhaustion, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

The hallway loomed before him, a long and narrow tunnel carved from the same cold, dark stone as the chamber. The air grew colder as he entered, the oppressive silence broken only by the sound of his uneven footsteps and the distant growls of the creature behind him.

The hallway sloped downward, the uneven floor slick with moisture. Kealen's boots slipped on the damp surface, and he barely managed to catch himself against the wall. The rough stone bit into his palms, and he winced, but he kept moving.

The sound of the Stalker's pursuit grew louder, its guttural growls echoing through the narrow space. Kealen risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it.

The creature's form filled the hallway, its jagged limbs scraping against the walls, its body shifting and writhing as if made of living shadow. Its glowing blue eyes burned with murderous intent, and its claws tore into the stone as it charged after him.

"Faster," Kealen hissed to himself, his voice shaking. "Move faster!"

But his body wasn't listening. His legs felt like they were on fire, his chest ached with every breath, and his bloodied hands slipped uselessly against the walls as he stumbled forward. He was running on nothing but adrenaline, and even that was beginning to fail him.

The hallway suddenly opened into another chamber, this one smaller and darker than the last. The air here was different, heavier, colder, saturated with an overwhelming sense of dread. At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, and on that pedestal lay a single object: a faintly glowing blade.

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Notification:

New Quest Item Discovered: Wraithblade.

Objective Updated: Claim the Wraithblade.

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The blade called to him, its pale light cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Kealen's eyes locked onto it, and he staggered toward the pedestal, his legs barely holding him upright.

Behind him, the Stalker roared, its voice shaking the chamber. The creature was nearly upon him, its tendrils lashing out, tearing chunks from the stone walls as it closed the distance.

Kealen's hand closed around the hilt of the blade just as the Stalker's claws raked through the air where he'd been standing a second before.

The moment his fingers touched the blade, a surge of cold energy shot through his body, freezing him in place. The shadows within him surged violently, writhing and twisting as though they were trying to escape. The Wraithblade felt alive in his hand, its icy power coursing through his veins, mingling with the corruption already inside him.

The Stalker lunged, its jaws snapping inches from his face. Kealen raised the blade instinctively, and the creature's body slammed into it with the force of a runaway boulder.

A deafening screech filled the chamber as the Wraithblade sliced through the Stalker's shadowy flesh, its light flaring brightly. The creature reared back, its body flickering and distorting, but it wasn't retreating. If anything, it seemed angrier.

Kealen's grip tightened on the blade, his knuckles white. "Come on, then," he growled, his voice trembling with equal parts fear and defiance. "Let's see if I can make you bleed."