The fetid air hung heavy and viscous, as if it had congealed into blood.
Each breath tasted of rust and the sickly sweetness that rose from the depths of the marsh.
Raine slumped against a gnarled, sap-oozing root, the black fluid trickling over its bark.
Every so often, a scorching sting lanced through his calf wound, corroded by the acid they'd encountered, reminding him of its raw agony.
Though Thalia's ministrations had quelled the nauseating white smoke, the gash—deep enough to reveal bone—still glowed a sinister crimson at the edges.
He felt utterly drained—not only from the wound itself but from the void left by the star-magic backlash in his veins, and the lingering shock of their battle with the shadow-devourers.
Before his eyes, reality had reduced to fractured shards of light and darkness, wicked blurs dancing at the edges of vision—each heartbeat tugging at the dull ache pulsing within his skull.
Nearby, Karrion's heavy boots shuffled on the sodden ground, his rough wheeze sounding like an ancient bellows needing repair.
He halted, and the hollow clink of his metal waterskin swaying by his hip rang with a note of despair, as if warning them that their supply ran perilously low.
"Blast it…" Karrion rasped, the frustration in his voice barely contained. "That's the last drop. Not even enough to wet our throats."
Raine swallowed with effort, his throat raw as if sanded by coarse stone.
They'd gone two days without locating a single potable water source.
In this corrupted wood, every puddle and stream steamed with rot, its surface slick with greasy sheen—or thick, reeking black sludge.
Drinking any of it would be akin to quenching thirst with poison.
Rest might soothe their weariness, but the lack of water was quickly draining what little strength and resolve they had left.
Thalia sat a short distance off, her back turned, the folds of her cloak swallowing her in shadow.
Raine couldn't make out her expression; only sensed a silence more absolute than usual—an almost viscous stillness.
Between the toll of battle and the forest's pervasive corruption, she seemed even more affected than he or Karrion.
He recalled the shimmer of energy as she'd toed the line of battle to protect him, and now her barely audible, ragged breath.
Her frailty, he feared, ran far deeper than she let on.
"We need a plan," Raine croaked. "We won't last much longer like this."
Karrion ground a fist-sized fungus under his boot in irritation.
"A plan? In this accursed place?" he spat. "Unless pies rain down from the sky—clean, drinkable pies!"
The dwarf paced restlessly, his thick fingers idly stroking the haft of his war-hammer.
His gaze flicked over Raine's ashen face, then to Thalia's immobile form, furrowing his brow until his beard seemed to tremble with fret.
"Wait…" Karrion abruptly came to a halt, rapping his forehead with a gloved fist. "Hold on… I remember something…"
His tone carried uncertainty, as if dredging up a long-buried memory.
Raine lifted his head, though his vision swam, detecting the sudden shift in Karrion's presence.
"What are you recalling?"
The dwarf didn't reply right away—his brow creased as he stared into the web of twisted branches overhead, searching for a clue.
"A… legend. A very, very old one, Grandpa told me when I was a child… He was a stubborn old codger, always prattling on about lost Dwarven secrets."
He scratched at his tangled beard, his pace slowing as he slipped into the cadence of memories.
"He said that ages upon ages ago—long before the corruption spread—the stars themselves would sometimes weep."
"Stars weeping?" Raine frowned. Such a notion felt fantastical—and utterly at odds with this forsaken forest.
"Aye—crying," Karrion nodded vigorously, as if growing more certain of his recollection. "Not literal tears, mind you, but a way of speaking. When a brilliant star fell, or when some tragedy saddened the heavens, their power condensed into dew—star-tears—that fell to E'sseria's soil."
"Where those 'tears' collected, springs would well—pure beyond measure, infused with the stars' primal essence."
"In legend, such waters became known as the 'Star-Tear Springs.'"
Karrion paused, glancing at Raine and then Thalia, who had silently turned toward him.
Beneath Thalia's hood, only the hard line of her lips was visible, betraying no hint of her thoughts.
"Grandpa said that Star-Tear Spring water could cleanse all filth, purify the darkest curses, even restore life to withered things."
A flicker of excitement entered Karrion's tone—subtle but unmistakable.
"Best of all… legends claim these springs endure even after the Shadow Corruption swallowed most of E'sseria's lands. Their star-force is so pure, the taint cannot fully breach them."
"They stand like beacons in the dark, preserving a final glimmer of purity."
Hope.
That word struck Raine like a stone tossed into stagnant water, stirring faint ripples in his parched heart.
Purify corruption? Restore their strength?
Exactly what they needed most in this moment.
If such a spring truly existed…
"But…" Karrion's voice quickly fell, shattering the dream. "Legends are legends. This damned forest is vast—who knows where such a spring might lie?"
"And there's an even darker twist." The dwarf's face grew grim, his tone grave.
"In these woods, anything pure becomes prey."
"Legends say each Star-Tear Spring is jealously guarded by the forest's oldest, mightiest corrupted beasts. They cannot taint the waters outright, but they nest beside them—drawing on the faint power that leaks out, and shooing off any would-be interlopers."
"These guardians…are said to be monsters born at the dawn of the Corruption, drinking in countless lives and twisted energies. Each one is…extremely deadly."
Karrion glanced at Raine's leg wound, then at Thalia's ashen cheeks.
"To seek a Star-Tear Spring is to deliberately provoke those apex predators of the corrupted wood."
"In our present condition…" he trailed off, the implication clear.
That glimmer of hope was quickly smothered by dark clouds once more.
A fleeting myth matched only by near-insurmountable peril.
Was it worth it?
Silence reclaimed the air.
Only the occasional unsettling hiss of unknown creatures in the distance, and the "plop" of black sap dripping onto rotten leaves.
Time ticked by, inch by inch.
Raine felt his weakness and the burn in his throat.
He knew Karrion spoke the truth.
In their current state, challenging those legendary corrupted beasts would be a suicide mission.
But… if they didn't seek it?
The water was gone.
Their strength was draining fast.
In this perilous wood, weakness equaled death.
Shadow-devourers were only the start; who knew what horrors lurked deeper?
Better to face danger head-on than starve and fear a slow death…
Raine's fingers brushed beneath his tunic at that cold star-shard.
Since entering the corrupted woods, he'd felt that stone's faint pulses grow more frequent—and the ominous visions sharper.
Star-Tear Springs… tears of the heavens…
In the depths of his mind, he sensed a tug.
Perhaps it was more than a mere legend.
Perhaps destiny was guiding them here.
Or… another layer of trap?
He could not say.
But he knew this—they had little choice left.
"Karrion," Raine said at last, his voice hoarse but resolute.
The dwarf looked up at him.
"Do you recall…any clue to where the Star-Tear Springs might lie? Even the barest hint."
Karrion paused, then clenched his brow as he strained to recall, his expression knotting with effort.
"A clue… Grandpa's tales mentioned… springs often form where star-energy lingers strongest… or near… ancient meteor craters?"
His uncertainty was plain in his tone.
"But this forest… it brims with warped energies. Who can say where they concentrate?"
"Worth a shot," Raine murmured, rising despite his throbbing calf—staggering but determined not to collapse.
The corrupted forest's shadows remained dense, the path ahead teeming with peril.
Yet now, at least, they had a goal.
A single, desperate objective: the Star-Tear Springs.