God's Tree-Chapter 51: Shadows in the Forest

The dense canopy of the Forsaken Forest stretched endlessly above, its ancient branches entwined like the gnarled fingers of forgotten gods.

Argolaith and Kaelred moved with steady purpose, their boots crunching against fallen leaves and thick roots.

It had been days since they descended from the mountain’s peak, and the deeper they traveled into the forest, the more unnatural the air became.

The stillness pressed against them, a heavy silence broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

"I don’t like this," Kaelred muttered, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "The forest is watching us."

Argolaith smirked. "Everything in this place wants to kill us, Kaelred. I’d be more surprised if it wasn’t."

Kaelred shot him a sidelong glance. "You’re disturbingly calm about that."

Argolaith shrugged. "Calm? No. But we’ve fought worse. We survived the mountain. What’s a little overgrown wilderness compared to a battlefield?"

They continued walking, their conversation fading into a comfortable silence. Every so often, Argolaith would pause to gather magical herbs.

Plucking vibrant blue leaves and deep crimson roots from the earth and slipping them into his storage ring. Kaelred, while not as skilled in herbology, did the same—albeit with less enthusiasm.

"You know," Kaelred mused as he stored a bundle of moonshade petals, "I never thought I’d spend so much time picking plants in a place called the Forsaken Forest. You’d think we’d be too busy fighting for our lives."

"Oh, don’t worry," Argolaith said, grinning. "I’m sure we’ll have plenty of that soon."

As if on cue, the air shifted. A prickling sensation crawled up Argolaith’s spine, his instincts screaming a warning. Kaelred felt it too, his hand tightening on his sword.

The birds that had been chirping moments ago fell silent. The trees, the wind, the forest itself—everything seemed to hold its breath.

Then, they heard it. A whisper. No—it was less a sound and more of a feeling, like shadows moving through the air.

Kaelred drew his sword. "Tell me you heard that."

"I heard it," Argolaith said, his own blade sliding from its sheath. "Something’s here."

A flicker of movement darted through the trees. A dark shape—tall, lean, unnatural—glided through the mist, watching them with unseen eyes.

Then, a voice. Smooth, cold, filled with amusement.

"Well, well," it murmured, echoing through the trees. "Two wanderers, alone in the heart of the Forsaken Forest… carrying something most fascinating."

Argolaith and Kaelred shifted to stand back-to-back, scanning the shifting shadows.

"Who’s there?" Argolaith demanded, his grip firm on his sword.

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The figure did not answer immediately. Instead, it stepped into the dim light of the forest clearing.

The sight sent a chill through both warriors.

The man—if he could even be called that—wore a long, tattered cloak that barely concealed the skeletal frame beneath it.

His face, once human, was now a grotesque visage of exposed bone and withered flesh, preserved only by the unnatural glow of dark magic seeping from his very being.

His fingers, long and claw-like, crackled with violet energy. The aura around him was suffocating.

Kaelred inhaled sharply. "A lich."

The creature chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "You say that with such distain. How amusing."

Argolaith kept his stance firm. "What do you want?"

The lich’s hollow sockets glowed faintly. "Your storage ring," he said simply. "It holds something… impossible. A space that defies all magic, all logic. I want to study it."

Argolaith’s jaw clenched. "Not happening."

The lich’s bony fingers flexed, his voice laced with condescension. "I was hoping you’d say that."

Then, without another word, he attacked.

A wave of violet energy surged forward, crackling with death itself. Argolaith and Kaelred leapt aside as the blast struck the ground, blackening the earth where they had just stood.

Kaelred barely had time to recover before the lich moved with impossible speed, closing the distance in an instant.

A dark blade thin, wickedly curved—materialized in his grip, and he slashed at Kaelred with precise, deadly movements.

Kaelred met the attack head-on, his sword clashing against the lich’s in a shower of sparks.

Argolaith spun behind the lich, aiming to strike from behind, but the undead warrior twisted unnaturally, blocking the blow with almost inhuman reflexes.

"You two are skilled," the lich mused, his voice dripping with amusement. "For ones without magic, you are remarkably entertaining."

"Glad we could amuse you," Argolaith snarled, twisting away and aiming a slash at the lich’s ribcage.

The lich parried, his skeletal fingers moving like a puppeteer controlling an unseen force. With a flick of his wrist, another burst of dark energy shot out, forcing Argolaith back.

Kaelred lunged, attempting to take advantage of the opening, but the lich was faster.

With a spin of his blade, he forced Kaelred off balance and sent him stumbling backward.

"Pathetic," the lich sighed. "You rely too much on brute force."

Argolaith gritted his teeth. They were at a disadvantage. The lich had magic, speed, and unnatural endurance. Every move they made, he countered with eerie precision.

But they weren’t done yet.

Kaelred adjusted his grip, eyes narrowing. "Argolaith," he muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

Argolaith understood immediately.

Without hesitation, he feigned another forward attack. The lich, anticipating the strike, moved to counter—only for Kaelred to shift his momentum, bringing his sword down in a sharp, unexpected angle.

The blade sliced clean through the lich’s shoulder. For the first time, the undead creature hissed in pain.

Kaelred smirked. "Not so untouchable after all, are you?"

The lich’s glowing sockets darkened, his voice no longer amused. "You’re going to regret that."

With a wave of his hand, the shadows around them erupted.

From the darkness, twisted figures rose—skeletal warriors draped in tattered armor, their hollow eyes glowing with the same violet fire as their master.

Argolaith cursed. "He can summon them?"

The lich grinned, stepping back into the shadows as his undead creations moved forward.

"Let’s see how long you last."

The skeletal warriors surged forward, their hollow eyes burning with the same eerie violet glow as their master.

Rusted swords and jagged spears glinted under the dim forest light as they moved with unnatural speed, their brittle bones rattling like a death knell.

Argolaith and Kaelred had no time to hesitate.

"Stay close!" Argolaith barked, pivoting on his heel just in time to parry a downward slash from one of the skeletal warriors. Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel.

Kaelred, already moving, ducked under the swing of another undead and drove his sword upward into the creature’s ribcage.

The impact sent cracks splintering through the brittle bone, but the skeleton did not falter.

"They don’t go down easy," Kaelred growled, pulling his blade free and sidestepping a spear thrust aimed at his ribs.

"No," Argolaith agreed, gritting his teeth as he parried another attack, "but they can be broken."

His next strike was precise and brutal—a sweeping slash aimed at the knee joint of his skeletal opponent.

The brittle bone snapped, sending the undead warrior collapsing to the ground. Before it could rise, Argolaith drove his sword down, shattering its skull.

The lich watched from a distance, his skeletal grin widening as more of his minions emerged from the shadows.

"You’re surviving longer than I expected," he mused, his voice echoing unnaturally. "Let’s see how much longer that lasts."

With a flick of his bony fingers, more undead surged forth.

Argolaith and Kaelred fought back-to-back, their movements sharp and desperate.

Their blades carved through the undead horde, but no matter how many skeletons they shattered, more kept rising from the darkness.

"We can’t keep this up forever!" Kaelred grunted, deflecting an incoming strike before countering with a powerful downward slash that split a skeleton in two.

Argolaith ducked under a spear and drove his sword into an undead warrior’s sternum, twisting the blade before yanking it free. "Then we need to finish this fast."

Kaelred exhaled sharply. "You got a plan?"

Argolaith’s eyes flickered toward the lich. "We take him down."

Easier said than done. The lich wasn’t just summoning undead—he was controlling them, directing them like a conductor leading an orchestra of death.

If they could sever the head of the operation, maybe—just maybe—they could stop the tide.

"I’ll break through," Argolaith decided. "Cover me."

Kaelred nodded without hesitation. "Try not to get yourself killed."

Then they moved.

Kaelred became a wall of steel, intercepting every undead that moved to block Argolaith’s charge.

His blade moved in quick, decisive arcs, dismembering skeletons with practiced efficiency.

Every opening he created, Argolaith exploited, cutting through the dwindling ranks and making his way toward the lich.

The undead commander tilted his head slightly, watching with something almost akin to amusement.

"So predictable."

A wall of dark energy erupted in front of Argolaith, forcing him to skid to a halt. The moment’s hesitation was enough for the lich to close the distance.

The skeletal sorcerer moved with a speed that defied reason, his curved blade striking out like a serpent.

Argolaith barely had time to react, meeting the attack with his own sword. The force of the clash sent vibrations up his arms, nearly knocking his weapon from his grip.

"Fool," the lich hissed. "You are nothing without magic."

Argolaith gritted his teeth and pushed back. "Then I guess I’ll have to prove you wrong."

The fight between them began in earnest.

The lich was impossibly fast, his movements honed by centuries of combat. Every strike was deliberate, every parry effortless.

His skeletal form gave him an unnatural flexibility, allowing him to contort and maneuver in ways no living swordsman could.

Argolaith, however, was unyielding.

He met every attack with practiced precision, adjusting his stance to minimize openings. He didn’t waste movement, didn’t overextend.

He fought like a man who had spent years refining his technique against overwhelming odds.