The warning throb from the Sylphwing Quill and the intensified pressure of the ancient energies were a visceral, undeniable command: Leave. Now.
Kael didn't need a second prompting. He snatched up the small, hooded idol from the desiccated spearman's grasp – it felt strangely cold, almost unnaturally so – and scrambled backwards out of the narrow passage, his heart hammering against his ribs. He didn't dare turn his back on the oppressive darkness within the hollow until he was clear of the mossy entrance.
Emerging back into the slightly brighter gloom beneath the ancient tree felt like surfacing from a deep, suffocating dive. He took several gasping breaths, the acrid scent of the hollow still clinging to his senses. Corvus was still perched above, letting out a series of low, anxious caws, his head bobbing as he watched Kael.
"Let's go, Corvus!" Kael urged, his voice a harsh whisper. "Away from here!"
He didn't wait to see if the crow followed immediately. He turned and fled, his 'Silent Step' forgotten in his haste, crashing through the undergrowth as he retraced his path away from the deeply shadowed part of the forest. He didn't stop until he reached the area where the trees thinned slightly, where more sunlight filtered through, and the oppressive atmosphere of the ancient hollow began to recede.
Only then did he allow himself to slow, his lungs burning, his legs trembling. Corvus and a few of the other Shadow Crows landed on nearby branches, their feathers ruffled, their usual boldness tempered by a shared sense of unease.
Kael leaned against a tree, trying to regain his composure. The image of the desiccated spearman, his life force drained away, was seared into his mind. The coldness of the small wooden idol, which he still clutched in his hand, seemed to radiate a subtle malevolence.
He forced himself to examine it more closely in the better light. It was crudely carved, yet the hooded figure with its empty eye sockets possessed a disturbing aura.
"System, analyze this idol. What is it? What did it do to that man?"
[System Analysis: Object identified - 'Effigy of the Silent Watcher' (Minor). Material: Shadow-infused Ironwood. Properties: Potent Necrotic Energy Focus (Localized). When held by a living being within a highly concentrated necrotic/vital energy field (like the one in the hollow), it can act as a conduit, rapidly siphoning vital energy from the holder and channeling it into the ambient field or towards a designated 'Watcher' entity. Effect on user: Rapid desiccation, death. One-time use (energy largely discharged). Warning: Residual necrotic energies still present. Prolonged contact may be harmful.]
A one-time use, energy-siphoning focus. The spearman had likely picked it up inside the hollow, perhaps thinking it was a trinket or a source of power, and it had killed him almost instantly. The "Silent Watchers" – were they the entities that received this siphoned energy?
Kael felt a profound chill that had nothing to do with the forest air. This was a level of danger far beyond what he had anticipated. This wasn't just about fighting beasts or outwitting primitive tribesmen. This was ancient, insidious magic, a power that could snuff out a life in moments, leaving behind nothing but a withered husk.
He carefully wrapped the idol in a large leaf, not wanting its residual energies near his skin, and stowed it in his pouch, separate from his other items. It was dangerous, yes, but it was also a clue, a piece of the puzzle of the Whisperwood and its guardians.
He looked back in the direction of the ancient tree and the hollow. He had barely scratched the surface of its secrets, and already it had proven nearly fatal to others. The System's recommendation that he be a significantly higher level before exploring further was an understatement.
Corvus landed on a branch closer to Kael, letting out a soft, almost questioning caw.
"You were right to warn me, Corvus," Kael said, his voice still a little shaky. "Thank you."
The crow seemed to preen slightly at the acknowledgment.
Kael knew he needed to put some distance between himself and that place. The scent of blood from the earlier fight would still be an attractant, and he didn't want to be anywhere near that hollow if something else emerged from its depths, or if more of those tribesmen came looking for their lost party.
His camp, his small A-frame hut, suddenly seemed like a haven of safety. He had faced down death multiple times in the last few hours, leveled up, gained new insights and items, but also a sobering understanding of the true perils of this world.
The Whisperwood quest was not something to be taken lightly. The "path to knowing" was clearly paved with extreme danger. He needed to get stronger, much stronger, and learn much more before he dared to tread that path again.