Chapter 11: Ch11 Unwanted Dynamic
TESTING! TESTING!!
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Excerpt from "Luther’s Very Sensible Guide to Not Dying in Envelon" (Unauthorized, Unpaid, Unappreciated Edition):
Rule One: Do not enter the forest at night.
Rule Two: If you ignore Rule One, write your will.
Rule Three: If your party includes a hot-headed knight and a smug noble mage, add "I told you so" to your epitaph.
Safe Travels... you’re doom.
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The forest was eerily quiet after the battle. Broken trees leaned like snapped arrows, their leaves scattered across the blood-stained ground. Poisonous mist clung to the air in faint threads, drifting slowly back toward the ruptured earth where the snake had burrowed deep.
Luther stretched his arms above his head, groaning loudly as though he had just woken from a nap, rather than wanting to remember the unimaginable scene he woke up to of both mcs around him like protectives hens. He pointed lazily toward the scarred battlefield.
"You know," he began in his dry, sarcastic tone, "I once told you and your precious knights that daytime was better. Want to know why?" He jabbed his finger at the sunlit ground where cracks still smoked faintly. "Because those poor idiots I pointed to, the ones fighting in this exact spot, are still buried under there. Guess the snake preferred night snacks."
Liliana’s head snapped toward him, her exhausted face tight with irritation. "That’s enough, Luther. Don’t mock the dead."
Oh now... she knows my name.
"Mock?" Luther raised his brows, pretending innocence. "I’m respecting them! By pointing out their excellent decision to stay underground rather than keep running into that thing."
Aithur chuckled under his breath, the corner of his lips twitching. "For once, the boy isn’t entirely wrong."
"Not helpful," Liliana muttered, glaring at both of them. She pushed herself upright with her sword, the blade trembling slightly in her weary hand. Her armor was scuffed, her breathing uneven, but her eyes were firm. "We can’t afford to waste time. We press on to Spring Eley. The treasures won’t wait for us."
Aithur’s expression darkened, his cloak shifting as he crossed his arms. He took it back from Luther.
"Are you mad? You’re already worn down, I’m injured, and that beast isn’t dead. We’ll be walking to our graves if we don’t recover."
Luther leaned lazily against a broken trunk, his grin mocking. "Yeah, sure. Let’s march straight into snake central half-dead. Brilliant strategy. Maybe on the way we can hand the snake a dinner invitation too."
Both Liliana and Aithur turned their glares on him, but Luther only shrugged as though he had said nothing unusual.
Inside, however, his thoughts weren’t as casual.
Not that it matters... this snake isn’t done. In the book, it shows up again and again until the forest’s center. A recurring pain in the ass. Figures my life would get stuck with the ’special edition’ boss monster.
The tension lingered between the three of them, sharp as a drawn blade. In the end, Liliana broke the silence. "We rest for one night," she said tightly, though the admission clearly grated against her pride.
Aithur smirked as if he had won an argument. "Finally, some sense."
Luther clapped sarcastically, bowing slightly. "Bravo. See? You can compromise when death is the alternative."
"Shut up," Liliana snapped.
They moved slowly away from the ruined clearing, careful not to linger where the snake might resurface. The deeper they went into the forest, the more oppressive it felt. The trees seemed thicker, their branches knitting together to block out the sun. Strange calls echoed in the distance, yet none of the creatures revealed themselves. It was as if the forest itself was watching.
At one point, Aithur stopped suddenly before a massive fallen tree that blocked their path. It stretched wide, thick as a wall, its bark slick with moss.
"Jump it," he said flatly, glancing at Luther.
Luther blinked, then pointed at himself. "Me? You’re joking, right? Do I look like some kind of forest acrobat?"
"You have magic," Aithur replied curtly.
"Yes, yes, I have magic," Luther said, throwing his hands up dramatically. "But what you seem to forget is that I’m seventeen years old. Se-ven-teen. A kid. Meanwhile, you two are what? Mid-twenties? Late twenties? You’ve had years to build muscles and practice heroic jumps. Me? I barely survived tripping over a rabbit last week."
Aithur’s lips twitched as if he was fighting a smirk, while Liliana pressed her fingers to her temple, exhaling as though Luther were more exhausting than the forest itself.
"Then climb over," she said stiffly.
"Oh, of course," Luther muttered as he began awkwardly scrambling up the bark. "Climb over the mossy death log. Brilliant plan. If I slip and crack my head, I’m haunting both of you."
By the time he flopped over the other side, breathless, Liliana had already leapt with grace, and Aithur followed effortlessly, his cloak barely stirring. Luther groaned dramatically. "Yeah, sure, just show off why don’t you."
Night began to fall. The three set up a small camp, though it was less of a camp and more of three exhausted people collapsing near the roots of a giant oak. The air grew colder, shadows thickening until the forest seemed alive with whispers.
Aithur leaned against the tree trunk, arms crossed, his eyes closed as though sleeping lightly. Liliana sat on the other side, her sword planted in the ground, her hand resting on the hilt even as her eyelids drooped.
Luther, however, sat wedged between them, his body slumped in exhaustion. His eyelids felt like weights, his head nodding until finally, despite the dangers, sleep dragged him under.
Soft laughter stirred him awake.
Luther blinked groggily, squinting into the dark. Tiny motes of light shimmered in the air, glowing like stars pulled down from the heavens. They floated just beyond reach, pulsing softly as if breathing.
He rubbed his eyes. "What...?"
The motes giggled—a sound that was light, childish, and yet strangely ancient. They circled him, then drifted forward, glowing brighter as though beckoning.
Luther’s first instinct was to flop back down and ignore them. He was tired, his body sore, and honestly, glowing lights in a cursed forest screamed bad idea.
"Go away," he mumbled, rolling slightly. "Let me sleep."
But the motes persisted, dancing playfully in the air, their laughter ringing like bells. One darted close, brushing against his cheek with a spark of warmth, before zipping away again. They moved in patterns, gesturing, urging him to follow.
Luther hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the sleeping figures on either side of him. Liliana’s head was bowed, her breathing deep, while Aithur’s chest rose and fell evenly, his face calm in rest.
The lights shimmered brighter, their glow almost impatient now.
Luther sighed, muttering under his breath. "Oh, fantastic. Sparkly strangers dragging me out into the dark. What could possibly go wrong?"
Still, curiosity gnawed at him, stronger than his fatigue. Slowly, quietly, he rose to his feet, careful not to wake the others. The motes swirled happily at his decision, darting ahead like a trail of fireflies.
Luther cast one last glance at Liliana and Aithur. For a moment, the sight of them—warriors resting like weary humans instead of untouchable legends—made his chest feel strangely tight.
Then the motes laughed again, tugging at his attention, and with a reluctant step, Luther followed them into the shadows of the forest.
The camp behind him grew still, untouched, as the glow of the lights carried him deeper and deeper between the trees.