A while later…
Halcyon and Asher arrived at the first half of the Black Swamp. Before them stood a towering tree, its thick, gnarled limbs supporting spiraling walkways, hanging balconies, and a famous restaurant built seamlessly into the upper boughs. Twisting staircases curled around the massive trunk, where lanterns swayed from the thick, humid breeze.
"The only tree that isn't corrupted by the swamp's vile contents," Asher whispered.
"Yeah," Halcyon replied, her gaze softening. "Legend says this was the first tree cared for by the first healder mage to ever enter the swamp… Mirella The Gentle. She planted wards around its roots and poured her lifeforce into its bark. Every other tree fell, but this one endured. Now it's sacred… part of the old treaties."
Only two people have ever tried to harvest its bark… both vanished without a trace. Still, the Green Perch is maintained by descendants of Mirella The Gentle.
She brushed her fingers along an old, and fresh exposed root near the platform. Closed her eyes briefly. "I just hope they're taking proper care of her."
They climbed the winding stairs and sat at a modest table on the outer balcony of The Green Perch, overlooking the black swamp below. The table was carved from dark swampwood, its surface glistening slightly… helpt by a magical preservation to keep the corruption from other away.
A faint mist hovered above the canopy, curling through vines and branches like lazy smoke. Distant beast calls echoed through the thick air, frogs croaked, and market chatter overwhelmed all.
Legends were the mist was caused by the Heathage Empire as they once tried to purify the swamp with celestial fire, but it only deepened the corruption.
Also corruption here is partially psychic, infecting not only flesh but intent and desire.
"Cherry blossom brew!" a merchant shouted from below, their arms flailing. "Bitter as sin, but it'll burn the Green right outta your blood! First cup's a cure, second cup's a cleanse! Well, you best pray the third cup don't come!"
Halcyon whispered, "That's an old saying. 'Third cup' refers to when the corruption's already inside your soul. Past that point, no brew can fix it."
Warriors and mages darted through the crowd. Near a smoldering pit, robed figures roasted what might have once been a lizard. Halcyon smiled faintly as she sipped her tea… Bitter but not unbearable, it reminded her of the old medicinal teas from her childhood her mother made her try.
I haven't seen this many travelers and merchants in one place since I was young. Back when I had to help in the town square… Before everything changed.
Her mother was a kingdom herbalist known for brewing rare anti-corruption teas, before retirement.
In the mists of her thoughts. As her shoulder dropped suddenly, it relief.
At that moment, Asher broke the silence with something that made everything else fading away but Asher voice.
"Halcyon… can we talk about Lucian?"
She remained still for a moment, the cup paused at her lips, before finally nodding.
"Can you tell me how to convince Lucian to give it?" Asher's voice was quiet, but sharp. "I'm tired of this life. Of pretending. Of walking in shadows. I don't know who I am anymore. I want to be free of this… curse."
"You want to be more," she said, her eyes meeting his. "Something better?"
Asher took a sip and leaned back. "I don't know. Maybe. I see how Lucian moves, how he talks. It's like he knows something I don't. He told me to show progress… I came to him ready to prove myself."
"But I'm really not…"
Halcyon placed her hand gently onto his. "Lucian doesn't want people to take from him just for power. He wants them to understand what that power costs… He kinda stuck on one good side."
She hesitated, then added softly, "He once told me: The moment I saw the world's true face, I knew I had to cleanse it. But the power to do that demanded a price I can never take back."
Asher's gaze flickered. He nodded, his eyes distant. Halcyon leaned back, staring out at the swamp.
I don't think Lucian will ever give him what he wants… not unless he truly understands. Lucian sees it as a curse. And Asher… he forced his way into Lucian's path. But he won't give up. Maybe… one day, Lucian's mind might change.
Asher clenched his fist under the table, he even looked down away.
He remembered the beatings, the mocking and the raids. The fiends that would slip past the village barriers at night, torturing, killing. He had no strength then. No hope.
And then he met Lucian… He said. "Prove yourself."
I just seemed to have they harder he said prove myself what would I do without the curse… He wasn't given anything since we meet when I really came to show him how much I have grown… but maybe I need more before I ask him again… Especially, when he already see himself as a monster.
What would freedom even look like without the curse… Asher afraid that without it, he'd be no one again?
Suddenly, a murmur passed through the crowd below. From the west, three wounded warriors limped into the square. Their armor was streaked with mud and blood, one clutching his side, another leaning heavily on a cracked spear. They wore the sigil of the Stone Fang Guard, mercenaries hired to protect the trade routes.
The crowd quieted as they passed. Still, word were passed around.
"Silver Bandits."
"Struck near the Mire Bridge last night."
"They've grown bold suddenly… no fear of the Guards anymore."
One of the warriors collapsed. The others helped him into the shade of a herb vendor's stall. Someone offered water. Another muttered.
"Leaving the roads at night is a death sentence."
Halcyon's grip on her cup tightened. They're here already… Are they here for revenge? Seems like That youth death had something to play… We must we kill, just for more trouble to come?
Just as the whispered trouble began to spread, a commotion erupted near a merchant's stand selling jeweled trinkets and rare swamp-harvested materials. A large, fiend beast-pulling a cart had arrived, draped in dark crimson banners bearing the sigil of House Velvraine a notoriously influential family, infamous for their oppressive taxes and cruel trade practices.
A young noble stepped down from the cart, clad in shimmering robes embroidered with golden serpents. His expression was cold, his eyes scanning the crowd with an air of entitlement, as though he owned the entire swamp. Slowly and deliberate, he sauntered through the market surrounded by guards and advisors.
As he passed a hunched elder selling bone-carved charms, he paused. Without a word, the noble struck the vendor's stand with the back of his ornate cane. Trinkets clattered to the ground, some shattering on impact.
The elder cried out in protest.
A guard stepped forward, seizing the vendor by the collar.
The air turned sad, as everyone froze.
Voices rose angry, confused, fearful. From a nearby stall, another merchant began shouting at the noble, but the young man didn't even flinch. He lazily raised hid hand. A guard drew their blade.
From the upper balcony of The Green Perch, Asher and Halcyon watched the scene unfold. Even the wounded warriors, resting in the shade below, turned their heads grimly.
One of the servers from the restaurant whispered under his breath as he backed away, "Not another Velvraine mess…"
Everyone knew they owned 75% of the swamp's trade routes, enforced by paid mercenary groups and blackmail.
The Velvraine noble stood still, smiling faintly, like he wanted someone to challenge him.
All around him, was the smells of roasted meat, wet moss, and burning incense curled in the heavy swamp air, mixing with the tension rising like a storm about to roll through.
Asher shook his head slowly. He glanced at Halcyon.
There is no reason to fight almost each other after what I heard the reason for of them here… I could use it for practice, strengthen myself… I'm sure Halcyon wouldn't allow it, she herself won't like how they fight themselves more than me, even if it mean anger a bit of the people becoming her enemy.
No. She would never allow that. She despised senseless violence… especially when it came from those who should protect others.
She grew up seeing both the beauty and the brutality of the world light and dark. Stories of kidnappings and fiends had once haunted her, but unlike Lucian or Lazarus, those horrors didn't harden her… they sharpened her empathy. She didn't see monsters or saints.
She saw people.
Watching the chaos unfold, Halcyon turned away slightly instinctively, she murmured, "We should head back. Tomorrow, we'll begin the search for the relic."
Asher nodded, the market remained tense below, the guards tightening their formation.
The two talked quietly for a while longer, before finally returning to their small rooms tucked into the ancient tree's boughs.