Introduction
The Carnival Guard senses an anomaly between the Shadow and The Fey.
A handful of adventurers gathered around a flickering campfire — two rugged brutes and a bard whose melodies carried the whispers of forgotten tales.
They had taken refuge within a dense thicket, hidden just off one of the meandering trails tracing the outer rim of The Thorn. Here, beneath the thorned canopy, they resolved to rest until the dawn guided them further northwest.
The Thorn had grown inhospitable, and few dared wander its tangled veins of prickers and vines. Once vibrant and lush, the thicket now pulsed with an eerie cadence, a hum that reverberated like a heartbeat steeped in corruption. It was the sound of land sickened by the quantum shadow’s tainted breath, and yet there was something oddly soothing about its rhythm.
Moved by the bramble's spectral thrum, the bard retrieved his instrument. He plucked gently, weaving notes into the night air as he sought to rekindle a melody that had stirred his imagination earlier in their journey.
“Now how did that go again?” he mused aloud, glancing to the brutes for inspiration.
Their laughter broke the stillness, and they continued their banter and song for another hour, the firelight dancing in their eyes. Overhead, a midsummer's night stretched endlessly, unmarred by clouds. With no city lights to dim the heavens, the stars blazed like the fireflies of the frog marshes to the north.
“To a journey well ventured, my friends! May the skies favor us and the shadows falter as we press onward along The Path!”
“THE PATH!!” they cheered in unison, raising their flasks before finally laying down to rest.
But peace was fleeting...
Barely a half-hour into their slumber, a sound stirred them awake—the faint clink of chains echoing through the woods. The metallic rhythm grew louder, resonating like iron dragging over cobblestones. The adventurers sat bolt upright, eyes wide with unease.
A sudden screech split the night. Overhead, a massive bat veered past, its cry sharp and disorienting. The adventurers swore they saw the mists swirling to answer its call, blotting out the stars and casting the world into shadow.
Then, the chains fell silent.
Beyond the thicket, at the edge of the moonlit trail, a horse-drawn carriage materialized. It stood abandoned, its frame bound by heavy stocks, and its presence filled the clearing with foreboding. The two brutes rose, weapons drawn, and the bard gripped a dagger, his jovial demeanor faded.
A figure emerged from the gloom.
Swinging a massive axe, the silhouette advanced, pausing every few steps to strike at the bramble, hacking closer and closer. The adventurers braced themselves, muscles tensed and breaths shallow.
From behind them, a voice oozed like smoke from unseen lips.
“...If the shadow continues to spread, we may never witness beauty such as this illusion again," the voice responded, as though it had been listening to their conversation from afar since before their attempt at slumber.
They turned sharply, only to find their feet snared. The brambles had writhed to life, serpentine vines twisting and clutching at their ankles. Panic flared in their eyes as the vines coiled tighter, binding them in place.
Arcane energy shimmered in the air. There was a presence watching from the shadows, intent veiled but its power undeniable.
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Chapter 1
The bard's voice rang out like a mocking chime.
"Took you long enough to answer... perhaps your ears are as withered as your voice?"
His words coiled with intent, baiting the unseen speaker to reveal themselves.
In that instant, the ground shuddered. Thorned vines erupted from the earth, writhing like serpents. They coiled around the adventurers, binding ankles and crawling upward with intended precision, their barbs grazing skin but never drawing blood. The thicket thickened, forming an impenetrable wall of bramble, dark and pulsating as though it drew breath. From the tangled gate of thorns emerged three figures.
Two were monstrous in stature, draped in hooded cloaks—the first cloaked in blue-stitched chainmail, and the second in yellow. Between them hobbled an old man, his patchwork motley as wild as his gnarled grin.
The towering figures flanked the bramble arch like sentinels, their eyes smoldering with primal energy. The old man, leaning on what looked like an enormous rose whose petals pulsed faintly, shuffled closer.
"You remind me of myself... when the world was younger," he rasped, his voice like dried leaves rustling in the wind. His laughter cracked through the tension, brittle yet oddly warm.
Surveying the adventurers, who stood stiffened with alarm, the old man’s expression softened.
"No need for fear," he intoned. "Guardians, stand down. This group has no ill-intent of their own, I am able to intervene the shadow's influence." The sentinels stirred but obeyed, their predatory gazes never leaving the group.
"Every soul has its purpose," the man mused. "Yours seems.. untainted by malice, but the shadow's influence is starting to take root. I am—"
Before he could finish, a thunderous crash erupted as the thorny wall tore open, scattering leaves and tendrils. A monstrous, hulking Anuran burst through, holding three mangled rats by their tails.
"Solly, look! Fwee of 'em!" the brute croaked triumphantly, displaying his grisly trophies.
The old man — Solomon — sighed, the sound rolling into a wheezing cackle. His companions, the blue and yellow sentinels, lowered their hoods as their laughter joined his. One bore a thick mane of tawny fur and feline features — a Leo. The other’s emerald scales gleamed like polished armor, visible through the links in his blue chainmail, with red eyes glowing in the mist — a Komodi.
Solomon waved a hand, and the vines recoiled as though alive, slithering back into the earth until not even a scar remained. "Get some rest," he said, his eyes darting to the horizon where shadows lingered. "My companions will keep watch. I'll tend to the creeping corruption of the night."
The bard, still wary, scoffed. "And what will you do while we sleep? Steal from us?"
"Ah, so young... so distrustful," Solomon replied, his eyes twinkling. "We'll ensure you survive until dawn." With that, he turned, the brambles parting before him like obedient hounds.
The bard called after him but faltered, for perched upon Solomon’s crooked hat was a bat, its wings folded like velvet shadows. It watched the group with unnatural stillness before vanishing with its master into the fog.
The Komodi came closer, his voice a serpentine hiss. "Sssleep... You’ll need sssstrength for what comesss." His crimson eyes glinted hungrily.
The Leo placed a restraining hand on his companion’s shoulder. "Wyrm, control yourself." Turning to the adventurers, he gave a toothy smile. "I am Maximus, protector of this road between shadow and the fey. Fear not. My companions are... loyal, though perhaps lacking grace."
His gaze flicked to the Anurian, who had already begun devouring his catch. "And some," he added with a grimace, "are great exterminators."
Wyrm snorted. "Guardiansss," he mocked before shooing away Maximus' hand and retreating to the perimeter.
Suddenly, one of the sentinels — yellow-clad and silent — collapsed beside the dying embers of the campfire, coughing up a black phlegm before losing consciousness.
The Leo and Komodi rushed to his side.
"The shadow’s whispers weigh heavy," Maximus said gravely. "But, rest certain they will recover." He turned back. "Rest now. Your minds must recover too." He bared his fangs in what was meant to be a reassuring grin but felt more predatory than intended.
"I’ll find more food!" Fiddles, the Anurian croaked.
"Ratsss," Wyrm hissed. "Alwaysss ratsss."
The guardians settled into position, their monstrous forms blending with the gloom. Solomon was gone, the bramble tunnel sealed as if it had never been. But the shadows crept closer, whispering through the mist.
The adventurers had no choice but to trust the beasts and the Wizard...
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