He skimmed through the rest of the notification. "And somehow, the acupuncture sessions with Mr. Biggins might have caused my Fluid and mana pathways to unify. Instead of helping me get Axis."
"Is that even possible?" Zara asked, stepping closer to examine the white energy flowing around him.
"Theoretically, no," Adom admitted. "These are separate systems. They operate on completely different principles."
"I mean... you say otherwise," Artun pointed out.
Adom nodded, processing the implications. "Apparently, the physical changes from my combat aptitudes created some kind of feedback loop. They've been working together—the Silverback strength changing my muscles, the White Wyrm making me tougher with each hit, and the Healing Factor repairing the micro-damage along the way."
"And that somehow merged your energy systems?" Bob asked skeptically.
"Apparently." Adom flexed his fingers. "I can control this just like mana, but it has properties of Fluid as well."
"And the color change?" Thorgen asked.
"If mana and Fluid have truly unified," Adom said slowly, "then this energy would be neither one nor the other. It would be something new."
"And what does that mean for you?" Zara asked, genuine concern in her voice.
"I have no idea," Adom admitted. "In theory, it would mean more power, more control. The ability to bypass the normal limitations of both systems. But it could also mean instability. Greater risk."
He flexed his hand again, watching the pearlescent energy ripple in response. "I feel fine," he said. "Better than fine, actually. Everything seems clearer. More connected."
"The legendary mages of old were said to transcend the division between energies," Thorgen commented. "Perhaps ye're experiencing something similar."
"Maybe," Adom agreed. "But why now? What triggered it?"
"The redcaps?" Artun suggested. "Combat situations can trigger all sorts of adaptations."
"Or it could be the Fae Realm itself," Bob added. "This place has a way of bringing out latent abilities. The border between possible and impossible is thinner here."
Thorgen grunted. "Or maybe it's just one of those Architect things that makes no sense and we should all stop trying to explain."
The dwarf's blunt assessment made Adom smile despite himself. "Maybe you're right. But understanding is kind of my thing."
"Well, understand it while we walk," Bob said, already scanning the forest. "Those redcaps might have friends, and I'd rather not be here when they arrive."
." Bob grinned. "They were the Riddlers. One always told the truth, one always lied. Travelers could ask each a single question to determine which path was which.""Seems unnecessarily complicated," Thorgen grumbled.
"It's the Fae Realm," Bob shrugged. "Everything's unnecessarily complicated."
Adom stepped closer to the skeletons, examining the rusted armor and crumbling bones. "What happened to them?"
"The dragon happened to them," Bob said.
"Biggins?" Adom turned, surprised.
"Before me time," Bob said. "But the story goes that he came here, just like any other traveler. They gave him their riddle. Asked him which path he wanted."
"And?" Zara prompted.
"And his solution was to kill one guard and ask the other if his friend was dead. When the guard said no—because one always lies—Biggins knew which was which. Then he killed the second guard too and took the path he wanted."
Silence fell over the group.
"I didn't know Ale was so..." Zara trailed off.
"Practical?" Bob suggested.
"I was thinking 'violently unstable,'" Artun muttered.
"He had quite the reputation here," Bob said. "Why do you think he was banned? It wasn't for his charming personality."
Adom stared at the skeletons, trying to reconcile this story with the old dragon he knew. "He just... killed them? For a riddle?"
"Fae don't view death the same way humans do," Bob said. "But yeah, it was excessive even by our standards. The Witch was furious. The Beast Lord demanded compensation. It was a whole thing."
"And yet you're helping his apprentice," Zara noted.
Bob gave her a toothy grin. "I'm a risk-taker. Always have been."
"So which path are we taking?" Thorgen asked, clearly uninterested in ancient history.
Everyone turned to Adom. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the whispers that had been guiding them so far.
"The witch's road," he said finally, opening his eyes.
"Ah, bollocks," Bob muttered. "I was hoping that wouldn't be the way."
They all looked at him.
A witch was rarely good news. The term wasn't just a descriptor for a female mage—it was a title, a designation for those who had transgressed the fundamental laws of magic.
Throughout history, the title of "witch" or "warlock" for the male counterpart, was the highest one given to those who deliberately broke the safeguards established to protect both practitioners and the world from magic's darker aspects. They were the ones who'd embraced power at any cost, who'd sacrificed morality for might, who'd declared themselves beyond the boundaries of natural order. They were the magic world's ultimate fallen.
"This isn't going to be a nice witch, is she?" Thorgen asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"Are any of them?" Bob replied. "In the Fae Realm, there's a balance of powers. The High King rules from his court, the Beast Lord commands the wilds, and the Witch stands apart from both, answering to neither."
"But they tolerate her?" Zara asked.
"They have to. Ancient pacts. You know how it is with these things – agreements written in blood and starlight." Bob spat on the ground. "Even the fae prefer dealing with the Beast Lord than with her. He might eat you, but at least he won't turn you into something unnatural first."
"Great," Artun said. "Just great."
"Maybe we should take a detour through the Beast Glades instead," Bob suggested, eyeing the left path with obvious discomfort. "Could be safer."
"Safer than a witch?" Zara asked skeptically.
"The beasts just want to eat you," Bob said with a shrug. "The witch? She'll do things to you that'll make you wish you were just eaten."
"But, Mr.Bob, you don't know the way to the dryad's cave," Zuni pointed out from Adom's shoulder. "That's why we're following the whispers guiding Law."
Bob frowned. "You have a point. I don't know these parts well enough to find the cave without a guide."
"The whispers are leading us this way," Adom said, gesturing down the left path. "We follow them."
"We'll be entering her territory," Bob warned. "This isn't just a cottage we're talking about. It's an entire domain. She has sentinels, soldiers, spies—creatures bound to her will."
"What do you suggest?" Thorgen asked.
"We stay off the main paths. Move quietly. If we encounter any of her minions, we eliminate them before they can report our presence." Bob's voice had dropped to a near whisper. "This isn't like crossing the Beast Glades, where you can at least reason with most creatures. Most of her servants have no will of their own—they're extensions of her power."
"Like puppets?" Artun asked.
"More like limbs," Bob said. "Cut one off, she feels it. But she's got plenty to spare."
The left path narrowed as they followed it, the trees growing closer together, their branches intertwining overhead until barely any light filtered through. Adom's glowing form became their primary source of illumination, the white energy casting strange shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.
After a few minutes, Bob motioned for them to stop. He pointed to their left, away from the path. "We go through the woods from here. The main road leads directly to her stronghold."
"Is it getting colder?" Artun asked, pulling his cloak tighter as they stepped off the path.
It was. With each step, the temperature dropped noticeably. Their breath began forming small clouds in front of their faces.
"She likes the cold," Bob explained. "Says it preserves things better."
"What things?" Zara asked.
Bob just looked at her. "Are you really asking that question?"
They moved silently through the underbrush, Bob leading them in a wide arc away from the main path. The forest around them had gone quiet – no birds sang, no insects buzzed. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"I don't like this," Thorgen muttered, gripping his axe tighter.
"Nobody does," Bob replied. "That's rather the point."
Adom tried to focus on the whispers guiding him rather than the growing sense of unease. The white energy still flowed around him, neither dimming nor brightening, but it felt different now – more alert somehow, like it was responding to the environment.
"What should we expect from her minions?" he asked quietly.
"Anything," Bob said flatly. "She warps creatures to her needs. Some might look normal at first glance, but there's always something wrong. Something missing, or something added that shouldn't be there."
"Sounds cheerful," Artun muttered.
Bob stopped suddenly, raising his hand. They all froze.
Ahead, through the trees, something moved. A figure, humanoid in shape but wrong in proportion, patrolled a small clearing. Its arms were too long, nearly dragging on the ground, and its head seemed to pivot a full three-hundred and sixty degrees as it surveyed its surroundings.
"Sentinel," Bob breathed. "We need to go around."
Adom quickly wove an invisibility spell.
They backtracked quietly, taking an even wider detour. Twice more they spotted sentinels, each more disturbing than the last. One appeared to be made of woven branches with glowing fungi for eyes. Another was recognizably a deer, except it walked on its hind legs and had hands where its front hooves should be.
"We might be in her territory for at least a day," Bob said when they stopped to rest in a small hollow hidden by thick ferns.
"A day of this?" Zara whispered. "Great."
"Just be glad we're not trying to pass through during the dark hours," Bob said. "That's when she's most active. When most of her... experiments... are let loose to hunt."
They moved silently through the witch's domain for nearly two hours, each step carefully placed, each breath measured. The forest grew denser, the trees more twisted, their bark peeling away in places to reveal something that looked disturbingly like flesh underneath.
"Which way now?" Thorgen whispered, as they reached another fork in the barely visible deer trail they'd been following.
Adom closed his eyes, focusing on the whispers that had been guiding them. They came more clearly now, like distant voices carried on a winter wind. Not words exactly, more like impressions—feelings—urging him in certain directions.
"Left," he said softly. "Then we need to cut through that thicket ahead."
Artun grimaced. "Through those thorns? Is there no way around?"
"The whispers are clear," Adom replied.
"'Clear' being relative," Bob muttered, but he followed without further complaint.
They pushed through the thicket, the thorns seeming to part before Adom's glowing form while clawing at everyone else. Zara cursed under her breath as a particularly vicious barb caught her sleeve and tore through to her skin.
"Sorry," Adom whispered. "The whispers say there's a clearing just ahead where we can rest for a moment."
True to his word, they emerged into a small space where the canopy opened slightly, allowing weak sunlight to filter down. The group took the opportunity to check their gear and treat minor scratches.
Zuni, perched as always on Adom's shoulder, suddenly tilted his head. "I say, Mr. Bob," he whispered, "are birds something we ought to be concerned about in these parts?"
Bob froze mid-step. "Birds? Why do you ask?"
"Well, there appears to be one watching us most intently," Zuni said, pointing with a paw toward a nearby oak. "Third branch up, half-hidden behind that cluster of leaves."
They all followed his gesture, squinting into the foliage. At first, nothing seemed out of place.
"I don't see—" Artun began.
"There," Zara interrupted softly. "I see it now."
A shadow among shadows. A darker patch that shouldn't have been there.
"She's known to have spies among the birds," Bob said quietly, not taking his eyes off the spot. "Watchers that report everything back to her."
"Then I rather think we might be in a spot of trouble," Zuni said.
"Why?" Thorgen asked, his hand moving slowly, casually toward his axe.
"Because it's been observing us for approximately forty-five seconds," Zuni explained, "and I believe it knows that I've spotted it."
As if on cue, the shadow in the tree shifted. A glint of light reflected off an eye—an eye that blinked sideways.
"Oh, bloody hell," Bob muttered.
The shadow resolved itself into a crow as it hopped forward onto a more exposed part of the branch.
The bird tilted its head, studying them with an intelligence no animal should possess. Then, slowly, its beak parted, revealing rows of tiny, needle-like teeth.
"Well, well, what have we got here?" the crow cackled, its voice a disturbing blend of bird and human. "Trespassers in my lady's domain? I'm telling."
[Flow prediction]
Time crystallized into perfect, terrifying clarity.
Thorgen's fingers closed around the handle of his axe.
Zara was already bringing her crossbow up, a bolt half-nocked.
Artun reached for the knife at his belt.
Bob tensed, eyes narrowing as he calculated their odds.
The crow, sensing the sudden shift, spread its wings. "The mistress will be so pleased to—"
It never finished. As it launched from the branch, Adom reacted.
A spectral hand, pearlescent and glowing, shot from Adom's body faster than thought. It crossed the distance in a heartbeat, closing around the crow mid-flight.
The magical construct squeezed.
The sound was sickening—a wet crunch followed by the snap of hollow bones. The crow's body compressed, black feathers and dark blood exploding between ghostly fingers. Its beak opened in what might have been a scream, but no sound emerged as its skull collapsed like an eggshell, brain matter and one eyeball squirting between the knuckles of the spectral hand.
The construct released what little remained—mostly feathers and pulp—letting it rain down onto the forest floor.
Silence fell.
The spectral hand dissipated, the white mana flowing back to Adom, who stood perfectly still, his expression calm.
No one had even completed drawing their weapons.
"Good heavens," Zuni whispered from Adom's shoulder.
Thorgen finally pulled his axe free, though the threat was already eliminated. "That was..."
"Efficient," Zara finished, slowly lowering her half-raised crossbow.
Bob looked at Adom with newfound wariness. "Didn't know you could do that."
"Neither did I," Adom said simply.
The sensation had been extraordinary. No complex formulas. No careful gathering of mana. Just intention translated directly into action with perfect precision. The spell had responded to his will before he'd even fully formed the thought.
He looked down at his hands, watching the energy dance between his fingers.
He could get used to this.
Everyone was still staring at him, a mixture of shock, relief, and perhaps a touch of unease in their expressions.
"I believe we should press on," Zuni suggested after clearing his tiny throat. "Where there's one spy, there are likely to be others."
Adom nodded, strangely exhilarated by what he'd just done. "This way," he said, already listening to the whispers again.