The refuge was not a city.
Not even a settlement.
It was an ancient wound in the forest that the dark elves had learned to inhabit.
Colossal roots rose from the ground, forming natural vaults twisted like ribs. Between them stretched platforms of dark wood, heavy cloth, and blue resin torches that burned without smoke. There was no ceiling; the purple mist filtered through the canopy—but here, it felt… weaker.
Not harmless.Just… tired.
The wounded elves were laid upon broad leaves coated in medicinal salves. Emily moved tirelessly among them, her hands radiating a gentle light as she closed wounds that should not have existed. Isabella maintained slow currents of air, dispersing the stench of blackened blood.
Kara sat at last, resting her greatsword against the ground, breathing heavily for the first time since the battle.Adela dismounted. The white tiger lay beside her, vigilant, frost still forming with each breath.
Dayana watched from an elevated root, crimson eyes alert. She was not smiling.
Selvryn remained standing, rigid, staring at her people.
Nearly two hundred elves.
And still… too many were missing.
"This was one of our main refuges," she said at last, her voice hollow. "It should never have fallen."
Lusian leaned against a root, the darkness around him slowly receding.
"Then something changed."
Selvryn looked at him—not with hostility, but with exhaustion.
"Yes. It did."
She turned to the clan's elders, who approached with slow, measured steps. One of them, his skin etched with ancient symbols, spoke:
"The forest is sick."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
"We noticed."
The elder did not take offense.
"I do not speak of ordinary corruption.The mana… is concentrating."
Lusian lifted his gaze.
"Explain."
The elf drew a deep breath.
"For centuries, the Dark Forest has regulated its own mana. It flows, disperses, renews itself.But now…" —he closed his eyes— "it no longer flows."
Selvryn continued:
"Something is holding it. Trapping it. Compressing it."
Emily swallowed.
"And when mana can't flow…?"
"It rots," answered an older elf from the fourth group."And everything that lives too close… rots with it."
A heavy silence fell over the refuge.
"The first to fall were the weak," Selvryn went on. "The wounded. Those already broken.Then… the ambitious."
Isabella frowned.
"Ambitious?"
"Mages," said the elder. "Druids. Warriors who tried to absorb that mana to grow stronger."
Lusian did not look away.
"And the forest devoured them."
"No," Selvryn corrected."It gave them what they wanted… without giving them a choice."
Kara spat on the ground.
"So the corrupted… are elves?"
"They were," Selvryn said."Family. Friends. Teachers."
Dayana tilted her head.
"And why don't all of you become corrupted?"
The elder answered:
"Because not all of us listen to the forest."
The humans exchanged glances.
"The forest speaks," Selvryn said. "It always has. It guides us, protects us…But now, it whispers promises."
Lusian closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"Since when?"
"Since the mana began to gather," she replied."Since something awakened."
The refuge seemed to darken.
"What thing?" Elizabeth asked.
Selvryn shook her head.
"We don't know.But the heart of the forest no longer belongs to us."
Silence.
Then Lusian spoke, his tone precise, almost surgical:
"Then you're not fleeing the corrupted.You're fleeing a future mana detonation."
The elder nodded slowly.
"When it happens… the forest will die.And everything within it, with it."
Emily went pale.
"How much time…?"
Selvryn clenched her fists.
"We don't know.But each day… there are more corrupted."
Lusian straightened.
"Then we share a common interest."
The elves looked at him.
"You need to leave the forest," he continued."My people need a place to settle.And the source of this corruption… must be dealt with."
Selvryn studied him for a long moment.
"I don't trust you."
"I don't expect you to."
"But…" —she looked at the sleeping children, the wounded still breathing—"…we have no other choice."
Lusian nodded.
"Tomorrow, we move.Toward the zone where the mana is most concentrated."
A murmur spread through the elves.
"That's suicide," one of them said.
Lusian remained unfazed.
"Not for me.But it won't be a clean fight."
He turned to Selvryn.
"And when we get there… you'll understand why some become corrupted…and others don't survive."
The purple mist drifted lower, as if the forest itself were listening.
The refuge endured.
For now.