Unia: Echo of Harmony

Night of the Departed Souls: Farewell. Act 2

The first step was heavy, laden with uncertainty. But each subsequent stride grew lighter, marking the path of a forest protector, forged in the crucible of necessity.

With each step, the voices behind him faded into the night, soon overwhelmed by the symphony of the wild. Baruch stood alone, a sentinel at the threshold of nature's domain, embracing the mantle of his wife's protector for the first time in his life.

As he was nearing the forest, the air grew thick with the panic of fleeing animals. Not only proud deer but also wolves, predators turned prey, raced past him. They fled from an unseen terror that had disrupted the sanctity of their woodland home.

Finally, at the forest's edge, Baruch paused to cast a lingering glance backward. Neither his wife nor his old comrades were in sight—only the shadows of the night stretched back at him. A wave of sadness washed over him, quickly chased away by a surge of indomitable pride. Raising his chin high, he stepped into the forest with his hand raised in silent salute.

The solitude of his wide palm was soon broken by a small bird. It landed with care, its chirping a cryptic oracle. Through its song, Baruch gleaned the direction of the approaching foe, his gaze piercing the forest's depths.

At that instant, the last desperate message from the Druid tree that had sacrificed itself to protect them echoed in his mind. "Before dying, the tree warned they were coming... and there were whole hordes of them," he murmured.

With resolute strides, Baruch moved forward, each step a challenge to the creeping fear that sought to undermine his resolve. The forest, once a sanctuary for any righteous druid, now stood as a harbinger of unknown threats.

With each step on the thick carpet of fallen leaves, his path deepened into the forest's somber depths, a foreboding weighing down each movement. The usual chorus of wildlife was eerily absent, leaving a void filled only by the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of boughs bending under the weight of unseen burdens; there were no scurrying feet of small creatures, nor the distant calls of birds echoing through the canopy. Instead, a heavy scent hung in the air—the iron tang of blood, pervasive and chilling.

Baruch's heightened senses, honed through years of communion with nature, tensed as the air around him thickened with impending danger. The forest floor vibrated subtly, a warning of the terror that was rapidly approaching.

From the dense underbrush, a creature emerged, its form grotesque and unfamiliar, a stark anomaly against the natural order of the woods and the world itself. Its limbs, gnarled and disproportionate, propelled it forward with alarming speed. The creature's eyes, glowing with a malevolent fire, locked onto Baruch, who stood resolute and unyielding in its path.

"Halt now, or I'll have to stop you myself!" Baruch bellowed, his voice booming through the forest, commanding yet desperate, carried on the wind to ears that would not heed. The creature, driven by primal ferocity, only increased its pace, its snarls slicing through the quiet like sharp daggers.

As the creature surged forward, time seemed to stretch and warp around Baruch, each heartbeat a resounding drum in the stillness. He stood firm, his feet rooted to the ground, drawing upon his deep connection to the earth. The monstrous beast lunged, its maw a gaping abyss, and its talons poised to deliver death.

But Baruch, fueled by the power of the Ancient Forest and his indomitable will, executed a swift, precise maneuver and met the creature mid-leap. Baruch's fingers gripped the creature's grotesque form, and with a force that resonated through the woods, he slammed the threat to the ground. The earth cracked violently as the creature's body crashed into it, yielding to the overwhelming strength of Baruch's resolve.