Chapter 15: A Warning from the Wilds

The air in the Whispering Forest was heavy and damp today—strangely so, despite the absence of rain. The golden rays of sunlight, which usually streamed warmly through the canopy, were now pale and muted. The ever-present birdsong had fallen silent, replaced only by the eerie sigh of the wind weaving through the branches. It no longer carried the comforting whispers I knew so well; instead, it sounded like mourning.

I was venturing deeper into the sector where I had previously found a metal boundary marker engraved with the code "Sector Gamma." The words of the elders in Oakhaven still echoed in my mind—the legend of the pact between the Stonehand family and the spirit of the forest, and the mysterious deaths of Kaelen's parents. It all made the government's "survey" of these lands seem far more sinister.

A faint, acrid scent drifted on the breeze, causing my brow to furrow. It wasn't the smell of campfire smoke but something harsher—freshly burned wood. And it was getting stronger.

Then, I saw it.

My heart plummeted.

Before me lay a vast clearing where there had once been a thriving grove of Moonwoven Trees and rare silver ferns. Now, all that remained were raw, freshly cut stumps, their sap oozing like tears from deep wounds. Twisted branches and trampled leaves were strewn carelessly across the ground, some scorched by half-hearted attempts at burning. The air reeked of destruction.

This was no routine logging. It was eradication. The cuts were crude, the method rushed. The deep grooves left by wagon wheels had crushed delicate undergrowth into unrecognizable pulp. Whoever had done this hadn't simply taken wood—they had torn through the land with the sole intent of destruction.

As I moved through the devastation, a hollow ache settled in my chest, as if the wounds on the land were my own. It didn't take long to notice the pattern: the trees that had been felled formed a rough path—one that seemed to lead toward the marker I had found before. This wasn't random. Someone was clearing a direct route to something deeper within the forest.

And it wasn't just the trees that suffered. I crouched to examine the groundcover. The Midnight Dewdrops, which normally shimmered with bioluminescent droplets, had withered into shriveled husks. The glowmoss that lit up the rock faces was fading, its usual brilliance dimmed to near-invisibility. Even the shade beneath the surviving trees felt wrong.

I reached out with my magic, trying to sense the flow of natural energy in the forest. Normally, it would feel like a steady, vibrant pulse—a heartbeat of life. But now, it was turbulent and murky, like a river turned to sludge. Something was poisoning it, unbalancing it in a way I had never felt before.

Then, my mind flashed back to the old records I had received—delivered in secret by an enchanted carrier pigeon. The sender was a mysterious young woman named Lyra, who claimed to be a scholar from the Royal Academy of Magic. She had reached out to me weeks ago, offering aid in the form of knowledge extracted from the academy's archives. I had no idea who she truly was or whether she had an agenda of her own. Trusting a stranger in times like these was dangerous. It could be a trap set by Lord Thorn himself.

But the information she provided—the ancient writings that spoke of a "Core of Energy" hidden deep within the Whispering Forest, and the dire warnings about the catastrophe that would unfold if its balance was disturbed—fit far too well with what I was seeing now. It was a gamble, but at this moment, I had no choice but to believe her words.

The pieces were coming together. Lord Thorn wasn't simply after timber, minerals, or land for his so-called "development project." No—his true objective had to be tied to that Core. This reckless devastation wasn't just about resource exploitation. It was a calculated move to weaken the natural defenses of the forest—or worse, a preparation for some ritual meant to seize control of its power.

A chill ran down my spine. This was far worse than mere political corruption or environmental destruction. This was an attempt to harness a primal force of nature itself—one that, if mishandled, could wreak havoc beyond imagining.

A creeping sensation prickled at the back of my neck. I felt unseen eyes watching me from the shadows between the trees. I saw no one, but the weight of the forest's silence bore down on me. Thorn's web of deceit was already spreading; his propaganda had reached the ears of the common folk. Some would hesitate to believe me now.

I backed away from the ruined grove, my heart pounding. The evidence of destruction was undeniable, but exposing Thorn's true intentions would require more than this. I needed something irrefutable—proof strong enough to shatter the illusion he had woven around the people.

The warning from the wilds was loud and clear.

The forest was crying.

And time was running out.