Page 10 of The Withering Wood

Once they reached the front gate, ending their winding around the fence, Cerise gave a satisfied tap of Beloved on the ground and said to the bear, “Lead the way.”

It grunted and wandered southwest, away from the Merathel Mountain Range that tore from the earth behind them. Spots of bright green glowed from the woods where fragments of bone jutted from the ground, the clouded sunlight a soft purple haze in the sky.

Not even five hundred paces from her home, the bear stopped at a gnarled, twisted tree. Once an ancient oak, it was now bent and blackened from Azkanix’s curse, the wide branches shedding bark and twining with its neighbors, allowing only faint rays of light to press through the web-like canopy.

Circling the tree, the bear’s gaze roved over the wood. It stopped on the other side, and peeking its head around the trunk’s curve groaned at Cerise, which she assumed meant to follow.

Cerise tracked the focus of its eyes to the tree, shoving the fallen strands of red hair behind her ear. Her muscles tightened, fingertips twitching for a weapon when her gaze landed on what the bear saw.

A rune. The same one etched into the bone the day before. Carved in deep, precise lines in the wood, only visible from the ethereal necrotic glow that shone through the marks.

The bear stretched onto its hind legs and scratched its stubby claws in frantic strikes over the marks. The dull ends did nothing more than slice the tiniest fibers of bark, and it grumbled with dissatisfaction. Sitting, it gave a pointed look to Cerise, her woodcutting axes, the tree, and then back to her.

She grunted back, irritated. It didn’t need to tell her what to do.

Swinging the axes from her hips, she hacked into the dead tree, blades eviscerating the rune in two strikes. When the dead light faded, the bear stood with a relieved huff and turned to trod into the forest.

“Not yet, beast.” Cerise hacked deeper into the tree. Since she’d already cut into the wood, she might as well see if any of it was salvageable. Yet, no matter how deep she cut, the wood was black all the way through. Cerise grumbled, furrowing her brow as she circled the tree to hack into the other side.

With how thick it was, she’d assumed there’d be some useable wood hidden within.

She continued to slice, the axes a steady thunk thunk against the tree, splinters of diseased lumber spraying around her. The bear waited patiently until the oak creaked with the weight of its lean. It stood beside Cerise and pressed its hulking weight into the tree, encouraging the last dead fibers to break. The tree crashed down with a thunderous crack, smacking into nearby cursed trees, tearing down entwined branches.

With the whole trunk revealed, it was clear the curse ate entirely through the oak. Everything, from the outer bark to the core, was diseased, the remnants of crystallized, frozen sap a gooey black.

The rune must have amplified the curse within the tree, same as it did the bones.

If the enhancement rune was placed on Azkanix’s skeletal fragments and blighted trees throughout the forest, the curse would spread at an unprecedented, unstoppable rate.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

Cerise slipped the axes into her hip harness. “Take me to the next one.”

The bear grumbled in consent and meandered into the woods. Dusty snow drifted through the canopy cracks, melting on their bodies, as the bear led Cerise from marked tree to carved bone, engraved bone to cut tree. She slashed away the runes in the wood and shaved off those on the skeleton, bone pieces cascading into their necrotic pools at the base with bright pulses. The axe blades grew sticky with black corrupted sap, and Cerise grimaced at the cloying curse. She’d need to be extra careful when cleaning the metal at home.

The spot of sun roved behind the lilac sky, shifting to a dull mauve as they hiked through the densest part of the forest into more open woods. Rather than twining into diseased webs, tree branches rose high and alone, errant rays of light peeking through gliding clouds and shimmering on the snowy ground.

Cerise, used to days of cutting wood, carrying logs, and wearing layers of thick clothes, didn’t weaken on their trek. As usual, her knee ached, but walking breaks were easier on her joints than the incessant standing required to hack down entire trees. The muscles in her arms hummed with use, invigorated rather than fatigued. Yet as the day wore on, the bear’s steps grew heavier, its head sinking lower to the ground. Cerise cast it sideways glances, trying to ascertain if it was disappointment or exhaustion that weighed it down. Whatever ailed it, the beast lumbered on.

They reached an open patch of forest, sunlight shining on the snow. The light melted it in patches, where pale azure and lilac lilies peeked out of the ground.

Zyrdriel’s Mercy. For an unknown reason, the curse didn’t affect it. Perhaps it truly was a mercy from Zyrdriel. But that meant the Celestial decided his flowers were worth saving more than his worshippers.

Cerise clenched her jaw, staring at the hated plant. It was also called Idle Lily, since depending on how it was prepared, and the part of the flower used, it could be a potent drug that left one limp, staring at the ceiling. How many people she’d seen succumb to its addictive embrace. From the clerics of Vhypael’s Temple to the wounded veterans in war camps.

It wasn’t a mercy. It was a bane.

Looking away from the flowers, Cerise turned her focus to the sky and lifted a hand to estimate the remaining length of daylight.

“We need to head back in⁠—”

The bear roared, a monstrous, powerful sound full of rage. Cerise whipped around, a sharp pain coursing through her damaged knee she barely registered. She tightened her grip on her axes, braced for its charge, for of course it would finally take the opportunity to attack her when her back was turned. It lured her out into the woods with the false sense of alliance and now⁠—

But the beast bolted in the opposite direction from her, bounding deeper into the woods.

Cerise humphed, curious, and traded out her axes for Beloved, hobbling after the bear as quickly as she could, given the abrupt, fierce ache in her leg.

It roared once more, a surprising hatred in its rumbling considering the otherwise gentleness of the beast. Dread curdled Cerise’s gut as her fighter’s instincts urged her forward, and she grit her teeth against the anguish, picking up her pace to catch up to the bear and the danger it sensed.