Setting: Verdraeth's Southern Verge — The Spiraled Hollows
As the veil of twilight settled over Verdraeth, the southern woods twisted into a natural coliseum. Fern-trees curled like ancient sentinels, their fronds browned and brittle with blight. The ground breathed with a slow pulse—alive, diseased, whispering.
Ash drifted from the air like blackened snowflakes. Roots shifted beneath the moss, groaning under unseen weight. From the treetops to the forest floor, decay reigned. The place was wrong... like something sacred had been turned inside out.
Elias stepped into the clearing first, his boots crunching over bones and burnt spore-pods. He paused, sensing something.
"They're here," he muttered.
A crack echoed.
Then another.
A muffled boom sent a tremor across the forest floor. Trees near the clearing caught fire—not with natural flame, but a smoldering black and crimson fungus that hissed as it fed.
"Look alive!" Mark shouted, drawing his bow. "That's not fire... that's something worse."
A twisted figure emerged from the emberfall—skin charred, ribs glowing like a forge, and atop his head, a mushroom cap that wept cinders.
General Cindebark – The Hollow Flame.
He raised a flaming arm and snapped his fingers. A line of myco-fire surged forward, carving the earth as it raced.
Mark leapt sideways. "Alright, flaming fungus freak. Let's dance!"
But before the flame could be answered, a different sound slithered into the chaos.
Sssk-chkchkchkh...
From above, a hunched, pale figure dropped like a wet rope. Tendrils sprouted from its limbs, burying into the corpse of a nearby deer. The carcass twitched... rose... and smiled.
General Skeldvine – The Parasitic Marionette.
Elowen froze for a beat. "He's using the forest. The dead. Everything."
"Then we give 'em nothing to use," Elias growled. "Split formation! Mark and Nathen, take the fire. The rest, on me!"
---
The Battle Begins
Mark vs. Cindebark:
"C'mon, blaze-bucket!" Mark loosed a Virid-tipped arrow, striking Cindebark in the shoulder.
The general laughed—a hollow, rasping echo. "Burn with me."
He spun, igniting the very air into mirage-like heatwaves. Nathen countered, slamming his hands to the ground. Frost erupted in jagged lines, encasing the fire.
Mark backflipped over a flame surge. "I've toasted bigger mushrooms for breakfast!"
Nathen shouted, "Keep him grounded—I'll freeze the core!"
Elowen vs. Skeldvine:
The parasite strings lashed out. Elowen conjured vine-chains, intercepting them mid-air. One string wrapped around her wrist—she screamed, and spores seeped into her skin.
"Get them off!"
Emma chanted quickly, her glyphs forming a radiant shield. It severed the connection instantly, and the string shriveled.
Elias charged forward, his blade humming. "He's mine!"
Skeldvine reared back, using two corrupted forest wolves as shields. Elias didn't slow. He whispered a spell—"Verdraeth guide my hand"—and his blade split into three.
One strike, three slashes.
The puppets fell, and Skeldvine recoiled.
"You hear it too, don't you?" Skeldvine hissed, twitching erratically. "The voice that sings beneath the bark?"
"Yeah," Elias said, eyes glowing faintly, "and it says shut the hell up."
He drove his blade through the writhing tangle of parasite flesh.
Climax
Suddenly, Elias's vision blurred. The Sixth Stone pulsed.
A whisper: "Unbind the mind to break the root."
He spoke the phrase aloud. "Unbind the mind to break the root."
Skeldvine screamed—not in pain, but in silence. His puppets spasmed and collapsed. The strings went limp.
Across the arena, Cindebark charged, burning from within.
"Mark, now!" Elias shouted.
Mark fired a sap-burst arrow straight into the general's open chest.
BOOM.
The Hollow Flame burst into a pillar of emerald light and ash. When the dust settled, all that remained was a smoldering pile of scorched fungus.
Aftermath
Ash fell like rain.
Elowen knelt by the pile of remains, eyes burning. "Two generals. One battle. We got lucky."
"No," Elias said quietly. "We were just fast enough."
Mark wiped sweat from his brow. "Four left, huh?"
Nathen nodded grimly. "Yeah. And they won't burn so easily."
The wind shifted. The forest exhaled.
The war was far from over.
They began to retreat from the Spiraled Hollows, heading north through a corridor of collapsing ferns. Every step stirred dormant spores, but none responded. The death of Cindebark and Skeldvine had left a gap in the forest's hive mind.
Elias turned to glance behind them. Shadows twitched along the tree trunks.
"They're watching," he said.
Emma nodded. "Vrathkul knows we've made our move."
Nathen, still breathing heavily, added, "We took down two of his pieces. That doesn't topple the board."
"No," Elias agreed. "But it flips it."
As they reached a ridge overlooking the next stretch of jungle, Elowen stumbled.
Mark caught her. "You alright?"
Her breath was ragged. "The vines... from Skeldvine. They left something inside me. I can feel it."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "Like a parasite?"
"No. Like... a memory."
She looked to the treeline.
"I saw something. A door. Fungal and breathing. It leads somewhere important."
Emma's eyes narrowed. "A gate? Maybe to Vrathkul's root system?"
Elias clenched his fists. "Then we're closer than we thought."
Far in the distance, the sky cracked—not with thunder, but with an eerie chorus of blighted birds. Four generals remained. And they had just awakened to war.