Morning light slipped through the ancient canopy, splashing dappled shadows across the clearing where the group had camped. The air hung still, like the world caught its breath after yesterday's chaos. In the center loomed Kernal, the newly named guardian, a 40-foot titan of stone and spruce, a living monument to the wilds' grit. Despite its hulking menace, it radiated a serene vibe, a silent sentinel rooted like a weathered cairn.
Robert stood a few steps back, eyeing the colossus. Kernal sat cross-legged, its massive frame creaking like a storm-swept forest with each shift, but its glowing emerald eyes held no malice. If anything, it seemed downright chill. Lillia perched on Kernal's boulder-sized knee, her black curls glinting in the sun as she studied the guardian with wide-eyed curiosity. She pressed her palm to its bark-like skin, sending glowing threads of life energy that seeped into the titan. Each pulse drew a rumbling hum from Kernal, like distant thunder over the glen, soothing the air like a breeze through Highland pines. Robert's chest warmed at the sight, though he tried to play it cool.
"She's got you outclassed, mate," Hamish said, leaning on his sword, his tartan cloak caked with battle dust. "Even giant rock-trees swoon for her charm."
Chaucer, brushing dirt from his coat with theatrical flair, smirked. "Charm? Nah, it's taste. Who'd pick your scruffy beard over Lillia's glow?"
"Oi!" Robert protested, then laughed, the sound easing the morning's weight. "It likes you, Lillia," he added, his voice warm with affection. Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds as she caught his gaze and tossed a glowing orb his way, its light twinkling like a star. He fumbled to catch it, nearly tripping, and her mischievous wink made his face heat. Damn it, she knows exactly what she's doing, he thought, grinning despite himself. Only she could distract him from the bizarre world unfolding around them.
Lillia patted Kernal's knee twice, like soothing a loyal hound. The guardian tilted its head, eyes glued to her every move. The bond was unmistakable: Kernal was smitten. Chaucer, spotting Robert's flush, broke into a mock ballad. "Oh, brave Robert, felled by a lass's light! His heart doth tumble in love's sweet fight!"
"Shut it," Robert muttered, but his grin betrayed him. Hamish snorted, shaking his head.
"Not jealous, are you?" Chaucer teased, elbowing Robert with a grin.
"Hardly," Robert said, stepping closer to Kernal. The titan studied him, its stone face unreadable, but a faint pulse of trust thrummed through their Sovereign Naming bond. Kernal rumbled, the ground vibrating like a slow war drum.
"Loyal to you," Hamish said, straightening. "But it's got a soft spot for Lillia. Can't blame it."
"What's your secret, Lilly?" Robert asked, his pet name slipping out, voice soft with warmth.
Lillia tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. She sent another pulse of energy into Kernal, who let out a deep, contented sigh that shook nearby leaves. With a graceful shrug, she tapped her glowing hand, as if saying, Magic, obviously. Her "spirit voice" brushed Robert's mind via her touch on Kernal: Maybe I'm just better at this than you, hotshot. The teasing lilt made his cheeks burn hotter than a clan bonfire.
"Alright, show-off," Robert muttered, grinning despite himself. Hamish snorted, grumbling about her "magic addiction tricks," while Chaucer whooped, "She's the boss, and you know it!"
Kernal's massive hand, big enough to squash a cottage, reached out, hovering over Robert. Instinct tightened his muscles, but the gesture was slow, almost tender. The guardian's fingers grazed the earth beside him, a quiet nod of respect. Robert exhaled, the moment's weight settling in his bones.
"We need a plan," he said, pulling his gaze from Kernal. "This corruption didn't spark itself. If more's out there, we can't just sit on our arses."
Hamish's easy grin faded, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's. "Follow the trail Kernal left. Hunt the source. Sort it out."
"Obvious, but ballsy," Chaucer said, twirling a dagger with a flourish. "We're not exactly fresh, even with Lillia playing healer. Another corrupted beast could flatten us."
Lillia glanced down at Robert, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. Kernal hummed, a low note that steadied the clearing's tension like a bard's lullaby.
Robert rubbed his jaw, thinking hard. "We need answers. The trail's our best shot. Scan it, grab clues, then regroup at Doras Dagda. We'll bring back what we find."
Hamish nodded, all business. "Assuming we don't get pancaked first," Chaucer muttered, but his grin screamed he was game. Lillia shot Robert a thumbs-up from Kernal's knee, her approval igniting a spark in his chest. "Hey, big fella," Robert said with a grin, gesturing to Kernal. "Mind giving us a lift?"
The team's faces lit up like kids at a clan feast. Kernal leaned down, roots sprouting like handholds across its shoulders. With creaks like wind-lashed oaks, it turned east, away from Doras Dagda, tracing its own path of wreckage. Robert clambered aboard, his Insightful Vision scanning the scarred trail: toppled pines, shattered limestone, granite and marble chunks scattered like a giant's tantrum.
As they trekked, Lillia and Robert felt the magic shift. Near Doras Dagda, it was thick and pure, like a spring breeze over heather. Now it thinned, a fading whisper, then thickened again, but sour, like a tire fire's smoke. Hamish coughed, his face twisting. "Bloody hell, it's like breathing ash."
Chaucer grimaced, muttering, "The air's got a grudge." Robert took shallow breaths, the sensation clawing his lungs like damp rot. Lillia, perched near Kernal's neck, frowned, her hand glowing to shield herself. It's like the Blacklands, Moira's voice whispered in Robert's mind, soft with dread and a hint of sorrow, a rare crack in her calm. Rot and decay, gnawing at life itself.
The corruption felt alive, a force hungry to choke out magic, swallow it, pollute it, and grow stronger. Robert's gut twisted, sensing the Warlock's shadow behind it.
A growl rumbled ahead, deep and unhinged. The group froze, eyes snapping to the gnarled trunks as a massive shadow lumbered out. A bear, once a proud beast of Scotland's wilds, now a monstrosity half Kernal's size. Black smoke oozed from its frame, coiling into claw-like tendrils that lashed the air, leaving dark stains like old blood on the rocks. Its glowing red eyes burned with psychotic fury, blood frothing between jagged teeth like a rabid beast.
Kernal grunted, ape-like, shifting his bulk. The team gripped his roots, bracing. Kernal raised a fist, fingers flexing in a clear warning: Scram, now.
The bear roared, a wail that rattled branches like a banshee's cry, wild and violent. Kernal's grunt deepened, his fists curling like boulders.
"Shite, it's spoiling for a scrap," Hamish muttered, drawing his sword with a metallic rasp.
Hamish leapt from Kernal's shoulder, swords flashing red and blue in the dim light. "Come on, ya mangy rug!" he bellowed, slashing at the bear's flank to draw its attention. The bear swiped, claws missing by inches as Hamish rolled, spitting a Gaelic curse. "Thalla gu taigh na diabhail!"
Chaucer, not to be outdone, vaulted off Kernal, landing with a theatrical spin. "Oi, bear! Over here!" he taunted, dodging a claw swipe with a pirouette that would've made a career dancer jealous. "You're slower than Hamish after a mead bender!" He darted around the bear, slashing its legs, his daggers a blur. "Bet I can ride this beast before you, Hamish!"
"You're on, furball!" Hamish shot back, grinning like a madman. He lunged, aiming to climb the bear's side, but it bucked, nearly tossing him into a tree. "Bloody hell, it's got spirit!"
Chaucer seized the moment, leaping onto the bear's back with a cackle. "This is my rodeo now!" he crowed, clinging to its smoke-wreathed fur as it roared and thrashed. He raised a dagger like a mock lance, narrating like a bard. "Behold, the Ratsassin tames the beast of doom!" The bear's tendrils lashed at him, but he dodged, laughing wildly.
Robert's hand shot up, a system prompt flashing: System: Aetheric Weaver activated. Task: Weave light and life to purge corruption. Failure risks further spread. His heart pounded, palms sweaty. He wove light and life into a radiant lance, but the first attempt fizzled into a shower of harmless sparks, scattering like fireflies. "Oops," he mumbled, cheeks reddening as Chaucer snickered.
"Nice one, wizard!" Hamish called, ducking another claw swipe. "Fizzling out so fast, I feel bad for Lillia."
"Lillia, boost Kernal!" Robert shouted, ignoring the jab. He wove again, the lance glowing brighter, crackling with intent, a touch of anger sharpening its edge.
Lillia's hands flared, life energy surging into Kernal's stone frame, making it glow like a sunlit Highland crag. She blew Robert a playful kiss from Kernal's shoulder, her eyes twinkling. "Keep up, hero!" her spirit voice teased, light and teasing. His face burned, but her magic steadied him.
Inspired by her blessing, Robert wove tremendous power into his lance of hard light magic, its spear tip infused with the bright green of Lillia's life magic. Infusing intention into the attack, he aimed for the bear's side.
Kernal charged, earth quaking, and caught the bear mid-lunge, hands clamping its bulk with bone-crushing force. The beast clawed Kernal's arms, smoke tendrils curling like venomous snakes. Chaucer, still on its back, yelped as Kernal's grip nearly squashed him. "Oi, big guy! I'm still here!" He vaulted off, landing with a roll and a grin. "So worth it."
Robert hurled his lance, the light-life magic slicing into the bear's side with a crunch of splintered ribs. The spear's energy surged into the beast, targeting the corrupted core pulsing within. The magic burned through the corruption like a hot knife through butter, the smoke hissing and writhing in pain.
Lillia's magic surged, a green tide bolstering Robert's spell, their powers blending like a Celtic knot. The bear's roar faded to a pitiful wheeze, its body slumping in Kernal's grip. "Gun robh do mhàthair na do leannan!" Hamish roared, shaking his fist, his Gaelic curse half-laugh, half-rage. He glared at Chaucer, grumbling, "Next time, I'm riding Kernal to show you how it's done, showboater."
Kernal's grip tightened, bones snapping like dry twigs underfoot. He sniffed the bear, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled spoiled haggis, then flung the corpse over the treetops. The 30-yard toss crashed through branches, echoing like a thunderclap. Silence fell, heavy as a shroud.
Chaucer, dusting off his coat, broke into a jaunty limerick, his voice absurdly chipper. "A bear, all rotten and vile, tried Kernal's stone smile! But fists did squeeze, snapped its knees, sent it flying a country mile!" Hamish snorted, caught between a laugh and a curse, nearly tripping over a root.
Lillia paled, hand over her mouth, turning away. Robert's stomach churned, bile rising. "I wish I could've saved it," he said, voice low. "It was gone. Nothing left of what it was." His words settled like ash on scorched earth.
Hamish's face darkened. "What's that mean for the path then?"
Robert stared at the bear's oily blood stains, his jaw tight. "It means we save Scotland from this filth." His voice burned with resolve, a fire kindled by the Highlands' call.
The group exchanged uneasy glances, piecing together the implications of the corruption spreading unchecked, a grim council in the making. "If it spreads," Hamish said, climbing back onto Kernal, "it'll twist everything, everything—beasts, trees, people. A mockery of life."
Chaucer shuddered, sheathing his dagger. "The Highlands, poisoned. Towns, villages, wiped out."
"It won't stop," Robert said, his eyes fierce. "It consumes, grows stronger. We end it." Lillia's hand rested on Kernal, her troubled eyes mirroring their shared resolve. Kernal grunted, urging them forward, a titan ready for war.
For an hour, they rode Kernal through the blighted forest, the air thickening with decay. Smaller corrupted creatures, foxes, badgers, hares, all grotesquely oversized with twisted limbs and red eyes glowing like cursed coals, leapt from shadows, a parade of nightmares. Kernal swatted them like midges with grim efficiency, a titan swatting pests, crushing a fox mid-air with a fist, stomping a hare flat with a casual step.
Then came the squirrel, a wolfhound-sized monstrosity with mangled claws, red eyes like cursed rubies, and twitching extra limbs sprouting from its back. It launched from a tree, aiming for Kernal's face with an earsplitting chitter that sounded like a battle cry from hell. Kernal flinched, not in fear but in surprise, like a giant startled by a rodent. Hamish swung his sword, missing wildly as the squirrel dodged, prompting a string of Gaelic curses. "Cac naofa, it's a bloody demon nutter!"
Chaucer cackled, twirling his dagger. "Kernal versus Squirrelzilla! My coin's on the tree!" Kernal backhanded the creature, sending it pinwheeling into a tree with a crack of branches and backbone. The forest fell silent, save for Hamish's muttering.
"Even Kernal's spooked by psycho squirrels," Chaucer said, wiping tears of laughter. Hamish shot him a look, his disturbed expression saying it all.
As the moon rose, silvering the twisted forest, the stench grew unbearable, burning their throats like acid. Lillia's magic pulsed, a faint shield against the rot, but the corruption pressed harder. Robert's Insightful Vision flickered, catching a jagged glow ahead. "We're close," he said, pointing to light slicing through gnarled trees.
They emerged into a cratered clearing, the ground charred like a bomb's aftermath. A rift pulsed at its center, a tear in reality, a wound in the world's fabric crackling with yellow, green, and red lightning, a storm of corruption. A dire wolf, as massive as Kernal, stood before the rift, its jaws gripping a squirming goat, not to kill, but to offer as a twisted sacrifice.
The wolf hurled the goat into the rift. Lightning snared it mid-air, twisting its form in a grotesque ballet. The goat bubbled and writhed, swelling to moose-size, then larger, sprouting a second head that bleated off-key, a discordant wail. Wicked horns curled from its skull and spine, sharp as swords and wickedly curved, muscles bulging under cracked, armor-like boils. Its hooves scarred the earth like meteors, its glowing red eyes wild with frenzy.
The wolf, as if mocking them, raised a paw in a bizarre salute to the rift, its movements stiff, like a puppet on cursed strings. "What am I looking at?" Chaucer snorted, twirling his dagger. "Evil choreography? Did the Warlock hire a dance coach?"
"Focus, you prat," Hamish snapped, but his grin betrayed him. "That's no dance. It's a bloody nightmare."
Kernal hesitated, rumbling uncertainly, his massive frame shifting. Lillia looked to Robert, her grip tightening on her mace, her eyes trusting but tense. Hamish gripped his sword, jaw tight, his tartan cloak fluttering. "I'm riding that goat," he growled. "And cutting its bloody spine."
Chaucer grinned, twirling his dagger like a baton. "If you're roping a two-headed hell-goat, I'm steering. Let's dance, mate!"