The walk began in tense, heavy silence. Fendrel led the trio, his spectral spear sweeping the environment with short, precise movements, his jade eyes never ceasing to move, scrutinizing every shadow, every protruding root. Borin followed close behind, his round, dented shield firmly strapped to his left arm, casting suspicious glances at Alex, who brought up the rear, feeling the invisible weight of silent judgment upon him.
For Alex, everything was new and threatening in a way that defied comprehension. The forest floor wasn't flat; it was a rugged, labyrinthine landscape of gigantic roots, some as thick as his body, intertwined like sleeping serpents, forming damp, dark caverns at their base. Pale, cold blue bioluminescent moss grew in irregular patches on the Senti-Sequoias' trunks, offering the only constant light source besides the distant, oppressively purple glow of the sky. The air remained heavy with the constant whisper of the trees, a multifaceted sound that was already beginning to fray Alex's nerves – it felt like muffled, unintelligible conversation, a chorus of spectral voices he couldn't decipher, a melody of sorrow or warning.
His ethereal body, still adapting to its new semi-existence, sensed the terrain, but in a strange way, without the impact or fatigue of the world he knew. The chains, however, were undeniably real, a cold weight on his wrists that anchored him to this new reality.
"So… how do you know where to go?" Alex asked, breaking the silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity. The question felt foolish the moment it left his mouth, echoing in the vastness of the forest.
Borin snorted, a sound of disdain. "We follow the Monoliths, Newborn. Or do you think we just wander around praying not to get devoured at every step?"
"Monoliths?" Alex repeated, trying to register the word. His phantom brain was overwhelmed with new information.
Fendrel paused for an instant, turning his head slightly to look at Alex with the expression of someone explaining the obvious to a child. "The guide-stones. Remnants from the Ancient Age, when Umbra was… less chaotic. They emit a pulse of order, a kind of silent song, that calms the surrounding Tenebris and repels weaker Wanderers, those without their own will. The Citadels – like Vargus – are built around the largest and most powerful Monoliths. We just follow the 'feel' from one to the next. It's like following an invisible river, a current of stability through the void." He gestured with his spear into the nothingness. "It's what keeps this place from absolute chaos."
Alex tried to feel it. He concentrated, closing his eyes for a second, trying to perceive something beyond the damp cold and the trees' whispers. He felt nothing. Only the familiar emptiness that had enveloped him since his 'death'.
"I don't feel anything," he admitted, frustration evident in his voice.
"Of course not," Fendrel said, resuming the walk with an relentless pace. "You're a Newborn. Your soul isn't yet attuned to the very essence of Umbra. You're an untuned instrument. The Tenebris you absorbed gave you strength, yes, and an unbearable glow, but not sensitivity. To you, this place is just noise and shadows, a meaningless chaos."
They continued for another hour, perhaps two – time was a tenuous notion there. Alex learned to move like them, lightly and precisely, stepping on the higher parts of the gnarled roots to avoid the damp, dark ground where unknown things might hide. He observed how Fendrel occasionally touched the trunk of a Senti-Sequoia with the tip of his spear, or even with the palm of his translucent hand, closing his eyes for a second, as if listening to something only he could perceive.
"What are you doing?" Alex asked during one of these brief pauses, his curiosity overcoming his caution.
"Reading the echoes," Fendrel replied without turning, his eyes still closed. "The trees… they remember. They sense the vibrations of everything that passes nearby, the resonance of souls. If a large Vagrant passed through recently, the entire forest becomes tense, and its whisper turns into a muffled scream that only we, the older ones, can interpret. If it's calm, as it is now, it's because the path ahead is clear. Most of the time." He opened his eyes, a glint of ancient wisdom in them. "This place is not inanimate, Newborn. It breathes and reacts."
Suddenly, Borin stopped abruptly, the air freezing around him. He raised his hand, his shield in a defensive posture. "Fendrel. Look."
He was pointing towards a small, macabre clearing ahead. In the center, there was a kneeling figure. It was a Conscious one, its ethereal form a deep purple, but it was… flickering, like a flame about to gutter out. The figure swayed slowly back and forth, mumbling meaningless words to itself, a song of despair.
"A Lost One," Borin whispered, his voice taut with sorrow and caution. "Succumbed to the Pollen of Melancholy."
Alex looked up. He noticed for the first time that a fine, silvery dust, almost ethereal, was slowly falling from the canopy, glowing with a ghostly luminescence in the light of the mosses. It was the pollen the hunter had mentioned. A strangely sweet, almost numbing fragrance hung in the air.
"What happens to him?" Alex asked, feeling a chill in his soul. It was a question whose answer he already feared.
"If he's lucky, his soul unravels into pure Tenebris, and he finds peace in final oblivion. If not… he becomes something that hunts," Fendrel didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear and cold.
As if to provide the definitive answer, the kneeling Conscious one's form began to distort with terrifying speed. Its limbs unnaturally elongated, its ethereal skin began to darken and become opaque, animalistic, like hardened leather. A rudimentary snout began to protrude from its face, and its back hunched, stretching until it resembled a protruding spine. A low, guttural moan escaped its throat, a sound that was no longer human, but the hungry promise of a beast.
"He's turning," Fendrel said, his voice devoid of emotion, merely stating an inevitable fact. He raised his spear, the jade tip glowing with a light of decision. "It's an act of mercy, Newborn. A kindness."
"Wait!" Alex said, stepping forward, his human empathy screaming. "Can't we… help him? Take him somewhere safe?"
Fendrel looked at him with cutting coldness, his jade eyes piercing Alex's soul. "Help him? Boy, there's no help for that. His Tenebris is corrupted to the core, infested by the despair that the Pollen cultivates. He's lost his will, his deepest anchor to his own soul. Now he is only hunger, an empty shell driven by instinct. In moments, he will be a Transformed Wanderer, an aberration guided by the darkest Tenebris, and his only motivation will be to hunt and devour us until his own Tenebris is depleted or purified. There is no cure for this here."
"But… in my world… there were hospitals… help…" Alex stammered, his mind struggling against the brutality of that realm.
"There is no 'but' in Umbra, Newborn. There is no past or future, only the now. Only 'is' or 'ceases to be'."
The transformation was completed with a final snap of bones and the ethereal tearing of flesh. The figure was now a bestial, quadrupedal being, with long, knife-sharp claws, and red eyes that gleamed with empty intelligence and a primal hunger. It sniffed the air, a growl tearing from its chest, and its gaze fixed on them. With a promise of violence contained in every fiber of its new being, it lunged to attack.
Fendrel acted with impressive speed, a cold and calculated efficiency. He didn't wait for the creature to arrive. He stepped forward, swung his spear with a fluid motion, and hurled it. The weapon flew through the air like a streak of jade light, and embedded itself in the Wanderer's chest with surgical precision, piercing its opaque form.
The Wanderer stopped mid-attack, a choked, horrible shriek escaping its corrupted throat. The spear's jade light intensified, pulsing, and the creature's body began to unravel from the inside out, dissolving into dark Tenebris that was swiftly purified by the spear's light. In seconds, there was nothing left, not a single dark particle of soot. The spear fell to the ground with a dull thud and, an instant later, disappeared, reappearing in Fendrel's hand as if it had never left.
Alex was shocked by the brutal efficiency of the scene, the lack of hesitation, the complete absence of emotion in the act. A soul, a person, had just been erased from existence before his eyes, transformed and then obliterated.
"Is that… what happens?" he asked, his voice weak, an ethereal knot in his throat.
"That's what happens when you give up," Fendrel said, his gaze fixed on Alex, harsh and instructive. "This place feeds on despair. It tests your will at every step. It whispers in your soul, tempts you to give up, to simply dissolve or corrupt yourself. The moment you forget why you are fighting, or why you even want to continue existing, you become just another monster in the darkness. Remember that, chain-bearer. Your journey is longer and harder than any of ours. And more solitary."
He turned and continued walking, leaving Alex behind with the weight of that lesson. It wasn't just about fighting monsters with his chains. It was about fighting not to become one. Alex looked at the chains on his wrists, now silent and cold. They were a constant reminder of his pact, of his debt, and of why he was fighting. For a second chance. For his life. And that will, he realized with chilling clarity, was the only armor that truly mattered in that hungry world.