The Witch's Covenant: Guardians of the Realm

The Despair

The morning in Odgir unfolded like a canvas painted in muted grays and greens, the mist clinging to the forest floor like a secret yet to be whispered. The sun struggled to pierce the heavy clouds overhead, its feeble rays casting a ghostly glow over the twisted trees and thick underbrush. Shadows danced around Nicholas, Rio, and Agatha as they had stepped beyond the warmth of their makeshift camp; the scent of wood smoke lingering in the air, mingling with the damp soil.

"Where do we even start?" Nicholas asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt a mix of anticipation and dread bubbling in his chest as they moved deeper into the forest. The path before them was obscured by a carpet of fallen leaves and moss, a living testament to the wildness and beauty of Odgir. But even with that beauty that surrounding him, he couldn't shake the feeling that every step they took further disconnected them from safety.

Rio glanced at him, her brow furrowed in thought. "The Eye of Odgir," she replied, the name hanging in the air like a spell. "It's the source of our power and this land's essence. So if it's under threat, it must be our guiding star."

"But the Eye isn't here, it's at home." Agatha interjected, her gaze sweeping the darkened canopy above. She instinctively raised her hand, feeling for the currents of magic that wove through the air around them, but it was murky and confused, as if the land was shrouded in a veil of uncertainty.

"No," Rio said. "But Nicholas is." she placed her hands on Nicholas's shoulder, a comforting, grounding weight.

Nicholas focused inward, trying to locate the subtle pulse of the Eye within him. It felt distant, buried beneath layers of darkness that loomed larger with every passing moment. "It's... faint," he said, frustration evident in his voice. "Almost like it's hiding."

A shadow crossed Agatha's face. "Not hiding. Suppressed. By whatever Mephisto has unleashed." She took a deep breath, centering herself. "Let's not forget what we're up against."

Nicholas nodded, "So where do we go?" he asked, looking at both his mothers. "We need a plan."

"Agatha," Rio began, "you've always had a knack for reading the signs. If the magic feels wrong, can't we trace it back? Maybe there are remnants of magic here that can lead us somewhere."

Agatha considered this, her mind racing. "Yes," she said slowly, "It may be weak, but if it's there... it should still resonate with us. With you, Nicholas." A quiet determination surged through her words, and Nicholas felt a flicker of hope rekindle within him.

"Okay," Nicholas agreed, "But stay close together. If we split up..." He let the implication linger. They couldn't afford to be separated, not now, not in this dark place where danger could strike at any moment.

With a shared nod, they began to walk, Nicholas at the forefront, feeling the subtle currents of magic flowing through the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate, to reach for that connection to the Eye that he had always felt so vividly. 

But the forest was a cacophony of sensations—every rustle of leaves, every shift of the earth beneath his feet, every whisper of the wind felt overwhelming.

"Focus, Nicholas," Agatha urged gently. "Trust your instincts. Trust your power."

He took a deep breath, and searching inward for that connection. His heart pounding, his blood rushing, his ears ringing. And then, silence. 

A faint spark deep inside, barely tangible through the emptiness. 

He began to move forward, his footsteps slow and deliberate. As they moved deeper into the woods, he felt the pressure of the land around him shifting, the air thickening with an invisible weight.