The transition from the "Wet Zones" to the true heart of the Forest of Whispers was not marked by a path, but by a wall of living architecture that seemed to defy the very laws of botany. Here, the trees—colossal, ancient entities known as "Elder-Vines"—did not grow toward the sky in a search for light; instead, they wove around one another in a frantic, suffocating struggle for the Echo-drenched air. Their branches braided into a solid, impenetrable canopy that plunged the forest floor into a permanent, bioluminescent twilight. The air was thick, tasting of moss, ancient rot, and a sharp, metallic tang that made the back of the throat itch.
"Watch your step," Pip whispered, his mechanical goggles clicking and whirring rapidly as they scanned the pulsating flora. The gnome held a brass sensor in one hand, watching the needles dance frantically. "We've crossed the 'Soft-Line.' The plants here have attained a high degree of mana-sensitivity. If your pulse spikes too high or your intent becomes aggressive, they'll mistake you for a meal or a rival predator. Keep your Echo low and your breathing steady."
Kaelen felt the forest's attention. It wasn't the distant, observational curiosity of the outskirts; this was visceral. The "Wood Imitation" in his right arm was vibrating so intensely it felt like his skin was being pulled by a thousand invisible threads, tugging him toward the roots. The emerald light in his veins matched the rhythmic, sickly pulsing glow of the giant pitcher plants hanging from the boughs above, their digestive acids hissing as they dissolved trapped insects.
"The air is getting thicker," Elara gasped, leaning heavily on her staff. Her face was pale, and sweat beaded on her forehead despite the damp chill. "It's not just humidity. It's... it's raw, unrefined mana. It's like breathing liquid. It's suffocating."
"It's a defense mechanism, little weaver," a new voice hissed—a sound like dry leaves skittering over hollow stone.
The Ember Spark froze. Ria's spear was leveled in a heartbeat, her eyes scanning the tangled canopy. Korg stepped in front of Elara, his heavy cleaver catching a glint of the eerie green light, his tusks bared in a silent snarl.
High above, perched on a branch that seemed far too thin to support his weight, was a Lizardfolk. Unlike the thick-scaled, swamp-dwelling brutes of the lowlands, this creature was lean and lithe, his scales a complex, mottled pattern of moss-green and bark-brown that provided near-perfect camouflage. He wore a mantle of woven ferns that seemed to breathe with him, and he carried a staff made from a single, polished dragon-bone, capped with a jagged shard of jade.
"You smell of the forge and the city," the Lizardfolk said, his golden eyes, with their vertical slits, fixing on Kaelen. He didn't blink. "And you carry a cinder that does not belong in the damp. It is a dry, angry thing. Why have you come to the Throat, Ash-Walker?"
"We seek passage," Kaelen said, stepping forward. He didn't hide his arm this time. He let the oil-cloth fall, revealing the wood-segmented scales that flared in the dim light, showing the Lizardfolk the resonance they shared. "And we seek the source of the Echo-spikes in this sector. We are the Ember Spark Company, and we are not here to burn your home."
The Lizardfolk hissed—a sound that might have been a laugh or a threat. He dropped from the branch, falling thirty feet to land silently in the thick muck of the forest floor without splashing a drop. He was taller than he looked, his long tail carving a slow, predatory arc in the air. "Passage is earned, not sought. And names mean nothing to the roots. I am Sissik, Speaker for the Weeping Grove. Your 'Company' is trespassing on a sacred site currently being reclaimed by the Great Green. The law of the city stops where the moss begins."
"Reclaimed?" Ria asked, her grip on her spear loosening only slightly. "The Guild maps say this is a free zone, an open frontier for chartered parties."
"The Guild sees only what it can tax and what it can kill," Sissik countered, his voice dripping with ancient disdain. He walked toward Kaelen, his forked tongue flicking out to sniff the air around Kaelen's blackened, glowing arm. "You carry a Calamity-spark. The Great Worm. He is hungry, yes? He seeks to eat the forest's heart to reset his wretched clock. I can hear him scratching against the inside of your ribs."
"HE SMELLS LIKE COMPOST AND DECAY," Ignis rumbled in Kaelen's mind, his voice a vibration that made Kaelen's teeth ache. "BUT HIS BONE-STAFF... IT HAS A TASTE OF THE OLD WORLD, ECHO. IT IS MADE FROM THE RIB OF A KINSMAN. HE KNOWS WHERE THE ANCIENT RESERVOIRS ARE BURIED. DO NOT KILL HIM YET."
"He needs to feed," Kaelen admitted, meeting Sissik's unblinking gaze. "But we aren't here to destroy the Grove. We're here because we're being hunted by the same people who want to strip this forest for its mana-veins. If you guide us to a high-density site—a place where the Echo is thick—we can clear whatever is rot-infecting the area. We've already dealt with a Void-Leech in the mines. We know how to pull the poison out."
Sissik paused at the mention of the Void. His head frills flared slightly, turning a vivid shade of orange. "The Void-stain is spreading. It is a cancer that the roots cannot digest. It has reached even the deepest aquifers of the Weeping Grove. If you truly possess the strength to 'Pull' the darkness as you say, and not merely consume everything in your path like a common fire, then perhaps our paths align for a time."
"We have an Artificer to see the traps and a Breaker to handle the weight," Kaelen said, gesturing to Pip and Korg. "And we have a hunger that doesn't stop. We are the solution to your rot, Sissik."
Sissik turned, his tail carving a final, decisive arc in the mud. "Then follow, Ash-Walker. But heed my warning: do not touch the red-veined leaves. They do not eat the body; they eat the memory. And if your dragon tries to take more than his share of the Grove's life-blood, I will turn your blood into sap and let the ants hollow you out before you can blink."
As they began to follow the druid deeper into the emerald gloom, Pip leaned over to Kaelen, his goggles clicking as he whispered. "He's a high-tier Druid, kid. His 'Echo' is tied directly into the forest's nervous system. If we lose his favor, the trees themselves will bury us in our sleep. Be careful what you promise him."
"I'm not worried about the trees," Kaelen whispered back, looking at the purple ley-lines that were beginning to throb beneath his new green scales. "I'm worried about what happens when I feed the dragon something this... alive. Fire and wood don't usually end in a stalemate."
The Ember Spark had found its guide, and the party was now complete. But as the shadows of the Elder-Vines closed in around them, the "One-Week" clock started to tick in the back of Kaelen's mind. They were six days from the end, and the forest was getting hungrier by the step.