A Song For The Ages

The morning sun filtered through the ancient canopy, casting a soft light on the forest floor below. Feiyin and his companions; Ruan, Jue Qingling, and her beast companion, Fenlan, had exchanged their standard robes for new attire: leather clothing dyed in natural hues of brown and green, designed to blend into the woodland surroundings. The material was supple, tailored for silent movement, and ideal for camouflage amid the dense foliage. Even Baiyu had remained curled and resting in Feiyin's quarters, still adjusting to her recent transformation.

They had chosen this elite lineup to form a swift and precise strike team, while the remaining forces would stay behind to defend the Greenwood Kingdom's territory.

Their elven guide, a tall veteran named Thalanil, wore similarly toned leather armor reinforced with finely wrought metal segments, optimized for forest maneuvering and combat in tangled terrain.

They walked in quiet columns beneath towering trees with vast limbs like outstretched arms.

Thalanil, tall and wiry with long braids tucked behind pointed ears, was easygoing; the sort of calm that only came from decades among trees. His olive-toned leather armor bore faint scars of past hunts, and his bow, polished and weathered, rested in his hand. He tapped it, its surface wrapped with an olive-green string. "My sixth bowstring," he said with a grin, catching Feiyin's glance.

Feiyin raised an eyebrow. "Sixth?"

"First thing we do as children," Thalanil replied, "is string our bows with woven reed. Each bowstring matches our phase of cultivation. The stronger we grow, the more tension we can handle. This one's foxgut and sinew; yin-refining phase worthy."

"That sounds... ceremonial," Qingling noted.

"It is," Thalanil chuckled. "Most keep their old strings braided on their person or back home, as proof of progress. Me? I lost my third string to a treecat. Never trusted that beast again."

Qingling snorted quietly, and even Ruan, ever composed, seemed amused.

Feiyin smiled. "So dire stag string is for higher realms?"

"Yang refining or beyond," Thalanil said with mock reverence. "One day, maybe."

"These paths shift," he continued, pointing to a mossy slope that curved like a sleeping beast. "The forest moves when it's restless. But I've walked these trails since my first string, and they've walked me back. You'll be safe with me."

Qingling tilted her head. "So the paths actually shift? Not just metaphorically?"

Thalanil grinned. "Oh no, quite literally. The trees are old and alive, in their own way. They grow fast when essence surges. Sometimes a path you know for decades will vanish, roots pulled up, trunks twisting to face a different way."

Feiyin's brow lifted. "So how do you navigate it?"

"Experience and rhythm," Thalanil said, tapping his temple. "There's a cadence to the forest. If you listen, feel it, it guides you back. And if not, well, you learn real quick what not to step in."

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Ruan raised an eyebrow. "But doesn't that make mapping nearly impossible?"

"Oh, we don't map in the usual way," Thalanil said with a chuckle. "We have anchor trees; massive ones that barely shift, tied deep into the root network. And there's the Elder Tree itself. It's the main nexus that connects all the roots of the forest, channeling essence from the land itself. If it weakens, the whole forest feels it."

Feiyin's gaze sharpened. "So the Elder Tree sustains the entire forest's essence?"

"Exactly," Thalanil nodded. "It's like the heart of this woodland. Through it, the essence flows, connecting every glade, every clearing. The trees shift, yes- but they stay connected through the root web. Harm the Elder Tree, and the forest sickens."

Fenlan padded lightly, its crystalline antlers catching a glint of filtered light.

"See that canopy shift?" Thalanil pointed. "That's a sign the glade of dancing moths isn't far. Used to be the most beautiful spot in the southern woods. Glowing pollen like stars, wings that shimmered with essence. But now it's quiet. Too quiet."

He cast a wary glance toward a distant ridge. "Even the silent basin, where essence beasts once came to soak under moonlight, is empty. Not a whisper of them remains. Something's pushing them out."

Feiyin, through his oscillation sense, could feel it too. The rhythm of life here was out of step. The flow of essence in the trees, the grass, the very air, trembled with anticipation- or dread. Every root pulsed slow and uncertain. Every breeze whispered warnings.

"While we're at it, let me tell you a bit more about the killer bears," Thalanil said, tapping a rolled-up map. "Our scouts report they've been gathering en masse in the south, which is highly irregular. Normally, they spread out to forage, and being omnivorous, they feed on roots, berries, insects, and the honey they craft themselves. That's actually where their name comes from; not for being killers by nature, but because of how aggressively they defend their hives and sweet stores. Used to be, they'd only attack if you got too close to their nests."

He leaned forward, voice lowering. "But lately, they've been moving with coordination, aggression. That's why we believe a new empress has emerged to unify them. Regardless, they're much more volatile now. Sensitive to sound and scent, they can track even faint trails. If we want to sneak through their territory, we'll need to stay downwind and dead quiet. One wrong step, and they'll swarm."

Feiyin and the others listened as they moved, talismans tucked at their belts fluttering faintly with layered concealment sigils. These had been part of their provisions, along with healing pills, soft-ration, and detailed maps etched with vital routes.

Three days passed in the forest, each step deeper bringing a sense of tension that grew like vines in their minds. The flora grew more desolate. Trees clawed skyward, their trunks gnarled and stripped bare in places, as if something had sucked the life from them. The birds had grown silent.

Then Feiyin stopped. His senses flared.

A low buzz- at first a whisper, then a hum- grew from the depths of the woods. His nostrils twitched at a sickly mix of cloying honey and iron-rich blood.

"They're close," he murmured.

The group moved with precision, donning their talismans. The sigils glowed faintly before dulling, their presence vanishing from scent and sight.

Through the foliage, they reached the edge of a massive clearing. The land had been hollowed into a mound; huge, layered, with a labyrinthine series of entrances and exits. Killer bears the size of wagons buzzed in and out in a constant stream, carrying carcasses, plants, and unknown sacks of nectar or brood. The mound radiated life and dread.

The ground nearby was bare and exhausted, a pale shell of its former verdancy. Trees wilted, the undergrowth dead or gnawed down to the root. The hive had devoured this part of the forest.

Feiyin crouched low, watching. His gray eyes flickered with intensity, catching every detail.

"Let's move," he whispered.

Their silent infiltration had begun.