The Dark Forest of Amonsulle was the second and final kingdom Alex had to visit. Its leader, Yggssei, a trio of Dryad triplets, had to be convinced to renew their peace treaty with the Light Palace. Alex had rarely dealt with the rulers of the Dark Forest, but she knew they were not warlike. She expected this task to be simple.
That was why she was so surprised when she met Bianchi’s new friends: the Rijons, a trio of rebel beastmen who warned them about what awaited inside the forest realm.
—Yggssei has gone mad! —the Rijons exclaimed in unison—. They have always been good leaders, but ever since the eclipse appeared, they've lost their minds!
Alex nodded. She knew exactly what the eclipse was doing: she had seen it firsthand, in her own castle and, more recently, in Rucheel herself.
—We must try to reason with them. Take us there, friends —Alex's voice was steady.
—Be ready to fight your way through —the Rijons spoke with grim certainty.
—Fight? —Alex asked.
—The entire forest is a single, massive enemy, Princess —Their warning was clear.
Alex glanced at the trees. They did not look particularly menacing, but the Rijons were armed to the teeth. They lived here. She did not.
—Attention! We are entering the Dark Forest of Amonsulle! —Alex called out, her voice carrying authority.
The Skulk, the automatons, and the Makoto Cloth Corps turned to listen. She was their leader, after all.
—This place is dangerous, so prepare for battle! We will fight for our lives, and in doing so, we will seize the peace we so desperately seek, even if it is contradictory! —Alex said.
A roar of approval erupted from the gathered warriors. The Skulk revved their engines, the automatons beeped as their systems activated, and the monks began their kata, a ritual dance of war.
Once fully armed and ready, they advanced on foot. The forest was too dense for vehicles. Only Bianchi managed to bring his motorcycle, transforming it into the combat gauntlet that had proven invaluable.
Their progress through the Dark Forest of Amonsulle was slow but steady. However, the deeper they went, the more difficult and oppressive the journey became. The trees were alive, this much they knew, but now they whispered and swayed as if sharing an ancient secret. The leaves trembled, though no wind touched them. Even the animals had vanished. There was nothing but silence.
—It’s so quiet, I can hear my own heartbeat —Alex murmured.
—It’s eerie —Bianchi replied.
He wasn’t wrong. The air thickened, leaving a damp, earthy taste on their tongues. The sense of danger grew with every step. Though the sun was not completely blocked out, the looming presence of the Wetlands of Magical Origin, a place of immense mystical power, tempered the eclipse’s influence. Still, it was strong enough to turn the forest against them.
Then, without warning, a sickening crack split the silence, followed by a guttural roar.
The entire group halted.
Alex tightened her grip on her weapon, eyes wide with horror as the shadows came to life.
The roots of the trees burst from the ground, writhing like starving serpents. Trunks and branches twisted unnaturally, taking shape. They were Woodfolk: humanoid trees that, in the darkness, looked like grotesque figures carved from living wood. Their amber eyes burned with the eclipse’s magic, glowing with a primal madness.
—Ambush! —the Rijons shouted in unison.
A tide of Woodfolk lunged at them.
Alex opened fire. She had no desire to make enemies of the people of the Dark Forest of Amonsulle, but her survival depended on it. The Skulk, armed with bats, crowbars, and all manner of blades, attacked in groups alongside the monks, whose inhuman strength shattered both branches and trunks alike. But the ones dealing the most damage were the automatons, firing energy blasts upward to avoid setting the forest ablaze. One disaster was enough.
Yet their attacks were ineffective. The unnatural magic of the eclipse, combined with the natural power of the Wetlands of Magical Origin, granted the Woodfolk advanced regeneration. Even fire barely left a mark.
A shiver ran down Alex’s spine. Thir’ahmh’s heightened senses had picked up something lurking in the forest: an ominous presence moving at terrifying speed, closing in on them.
For an instant, she thought she saw it: a massive figure shifting between the trees, watching the battle with impatient eyes. A creature with many faces.
"Is something hunting us?" Alex asked Thir’ahmh.
"Yes. Something ancient. Older than me" the beast replied.
Was that… fear in Thir’ahmh’s voice?
"How dangerous?" Alex thought.
"Enough," the monster answered. "Stay alert, human."
—We’re going to lose! We need an open space to fight! —Bianchi shouted, smashing a root that had coiled around his leg with a blow from his gauntlet.
—There are no such places deep in the forest! —the Rijons replied.
—What are your orders, Princess? —one of the automatons asked.
—We move forward! —Alex shouted— I will not leave until peace is restored!
"I can’t afford to," she thought bitterly.
The battle intensified. The roots lashed like whips, binding the automatons, the toughest of their forces. The Skulk and the monks clustered together, quickly finding themselves surrounded and cut off.
Alex sent Bianchi to protect them. The tree trunks’ blows were too much, even for the well-trained monks.
Time blurred. Alex had no idea how long they had been fighting, but she knew one thing—they were the only ones taking losses.
Without a word, she placed her hand over the Jhrelth amulet on her chest and called upon Thir’ahmh’s power.
But to her horror, nothing happened.
—What’s wrong? Why won’t you come out?! —she shouted into the void.
—What’s happening? —Bianchi asked, knocking a branch aside.
—It’s Thir’ahmh! He won’t obey me! —Alex cried.
—You should never rely on that monster —Bianchi replied. There was sadness in his voice.
—But without him, we’ll die! —Alex insisted, trying once more to summon the power within her.
