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B2 Chapter 6: Dreadwood
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 02:18:28 +0000 UTC“I’ve been thinking long and hard.”
“I never thought you had it in you, Shiver.”
“I still don’t understand how you trigger a Fear of plants. Insects? Sure. The sun? Terrifying. Have you ever tried looking straight into it, princess? I bet you have. Even crabs… ol’ Pince had every reason to Fear Princess Penelope. As much as I hated Semille, I was joking about the corncob up his arse but-“
“If you’re not careful in the Dreadwood, you might trip and get strangled by a vine, Shiver.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Vale glowered as Shiver smirked, sticking her tongue out at her. She watched as water vapour from Shiver’s breath hardened into miniscule slivers of ice which froze on her tongue.
Vale, Caledon and Shiver sat at the precipice of a cliff that overlooked the Dreadwood. The domain of the Kindly Gardener, Highlady Solastra Flora. The moniker awarded for the generosity of her house in providing the other Archcities and townships with a steady stream of produce. The grainstore of elven civilisation.
They had just completed their journey from Brimstone to the border town of Eleric, perched on the cliff that overlooked the vast Dreadwood that spanned out before them. The trio took a moment to admire the view prior to their entry to the town.
The journey hadn’t been kind to any of them.
Shiver’s revenge had turned out to be a sham.
Berevan Brimstone had saved Pov, Marta and Blaze from Semille Flora’s wrath. Silas had fashioned puppets in their likeness that had burned in their place to sate the lord’s vitriol. It was a cover-up job meant to misdirect the incessant lord, whose ego would brook no offense.
It would have been the perfect deception, were it not for its single, unexpected victim, who witnessed the crime. Who had decided to commence her descent into her Fear of ice at an astronomical pace in search of misplaced revenge.
Shiver had embraced her Fear to such an extent that the consequences were clear.
Written, in every breath she took.
It was a miracle then, that the girl’s nightmares and hallucinations hadn’t worsened after her descension – a curiosity that had Vale’s own guide, Lord Quietus Vingrave stumped. It strained belief – seeing as everything that they had learned about Fearshaping indicated that the further you descended, the greater your Fears tormented you.
Shiver had chalked it up to a desensitisation of her Fear. Where others ran from it, she welcomed it. She had made the site of her Fear’s inception, her very own home. Indulging in the “delicious pieces of terror” that were her popsicles, she practically wouldn’t shut up about them.
However, the relief that came with the revelation that Shiver was resistant to the effects of her Fear was quickly tempered with the greatest consequence of her descent.
Vale recalled her words to her crazy friend, on their journey to the Dreadwood.
“You know, you’re a lot like your Fear of ice.”
“Aww, are you calling me fragile and beautiful?”
Caledon had interjected, humming as he reflected on her words.
“More like a icicle as sharp as a razorblade.”
“Stop it! Flirts, the both of you.”
The sight of Caledon and Shiver laughing, as the girl slapped him heartily on the back, had brought a smile to her face.
Yet she hadn’t divulged what she had meant, to the girl.
Shiver was like a sliver-thin pane of ice. As beautiful and elegant that it looked, it could conceal a world of suffering behind it, and you wouldn’t think to look twice. Even as Shiver teased her, nudging Vale painfully with her elbow, Vale’s thoughts hovered around what she knew, was tormenting the crazy orpham.
Her biggest loss.
Icey was gone.
Shiver no longer heard her guide’s voice, after her descent from Anhedonia. Taking in so much of her Fear, that she had caused an Academy of Fearshaping to shut down, with the force of her descent. That is, if Vale’s theory about the Academy’s loss of power held weight.
In the quiet moments, Vale had she watched over her friend.
That was when she saw it.
The way she shivered in her sleep, from the cold, as much as her sobs. Cursing herself, for her string of mistakes and failures that had culminated in the loss of a naïve, annoying, and kind ice cube.
Shiver’s cerulean eyes that had once gleamed with irreverence and sheer will, had lost their sheen.
It terrified her.
Vale watched as Shiver’s voluminous winter jacket was buffeted in the warm spring wind as they sat at the cliff’s edge, staring over the vista before them. Her ash-grey, shoulder length hair, concealing her expression.
How quickly things change.
The jacket draped over Shiver’s shoulders had been a gift from Aveline Veringold, the very guildmistress that they had stolen from. Initially, she hadn’t been pleased with their return to the guild, but when they brought word of Pevir, her uncle, she had been much more welcoming. Vale hoped Aveline would find the bubbly archaeologist. No doubt, he was in search of more mysteries.
Vale would hold him to his promise of reuniting with them.
Vale gripped her friend’s arm firml.
“We’ll get her back Shiver. Just like you’ve said, time and time again. There’s never been a popsicle that’s escaped you. You’ve yet to be proven wrong.”
Shiver’s eyes widened, an imperceptible degree, before she looked away. She could try to hide, behind her familiar pane of ice.
Vale was determined to break through it each and every time.
Then, Shiver drew her Phobia into existence, and gently ran her fingers over it. The elegant, curving blade of frost, that gleamed the colour of her eyes. Mist, slowly peeling off its cold surface.
Riddled with cracks.
Their Phobias were reflections of their Fearcores, the essence of their being.
Shiver’s was shattered.
Without stabilising her Fearcore, Shiver would only be destined to deteriorate further.
They all would, though to a lesser extent. While Shiver had gone the furthest in her descent, she was not the only one that had taken in a significant amount of Fear during their descent to Trepidation, when creating their Fearcores.
Caledon had disrupted a web of corruption so deep, it had sunk its teeth into countless Fearshapers and elves. Fearshapers vastly more powerful than them, like his grandfather. Their will, stolen from them. His descension had momentarily disrupted that web, restoring the will of his grandfather, Valeric Brimstone.
As for her?
Vale had taken in the death of an Archcity.
Reflected in the strange words that appeared in her vision, when something resonated with her Fearcore, making them appear.
Stage of Fear: Trepidation
Guide burden: [Mythic]
Fearcore integrity: [Unstable]
Progress to Fearcore consolidation: [0%]
According to Caledon, his message had read similarly. Shiver had refused to tell them what hers said. Caledon and Vale’s Fearcore integrity read “unstable” and it would stay that way until they progressed further into the realm of Fear that they now languished in, according to Lord Quietus.
Trepidation awaits.
Vale flinched at the sight of Caledon Brimstone, who took a seat next to them.
I’m sorry.
The words died on her tongue. She had lost count how many times she had uttered them to Caledon on the ride here.
Did she have any right? She was the sister of both his father’s murderer, and the very girl that had taken control of Berevan’s body after his death. A monster, just like the rest of them. All one had to do to realise it was to glimpse at the black skeleton that followed in their wake, awakened by her Fearshaping. At the same time, it spawned a great irony. Of all people, Vale knew Caledon’s pain. Losing a parent to the Revenants. They deserved his resentment, his revenge.
Vale would see that he got it, if that was what he wished.
The sight of Triol’s black skeleton brought the foul taste of bile to her mouth, and set her heart racing. Ever since descending from Anhedonia to Trepidation, her Fear had grown in its intensity. The hallucinations, her nightmares, and the physical symptoms that she experienced in the proximity of death. Unlike Shiver, Caledon and Vale had not been so lucky.
The single redeeming quality of it all, was that her Fearshaping differed from her father’s. Where the Deathbringer, usherer of the Rampage of Undeath, rose mindless undead. Vale’s own Fearshaping couldn’t be further from his own.
Instead, the shape of her Fear resembled the very progenitor of their house.
Rael Revenant – the first patriarch of Revenant family.
Quietus was convinced that her Fear was superior to her father’s. Vale found it hard to believe. She knew, the moment that she raised Triol… that he was not a mindless skeleton. She did not exercise utter dominion over him, as her father did, his undead.
Still, there was no evidence or sign of her brother that remained behind those hollow eye sockets. She watched even now, as Caledon’s gaze was drawn to the black skeleton of her brother. Filled with hatred, and revulsion that his father’s murderer trailed them. A cruel reminder of his loss.
And yet…
She could not leave him to rest. Would not.
She did not have the liberty to relinquish any weapon if she was to kill her father. Even if that “weapon” was her own brother.
A monster. How quickly I’ve become the very thing that I despise.
Mercifully, Lord Quietus Vingrave broke her from her rumination.
“Why I say, Vale. Don’t you think the moniker is a touch misleading? They call the Dreadwood the “emerald forest”. That would imply the presence of some greenery.”
“Well said Lord Ratlad.”
“Young Shiver, I appreciate your respect for my title, but just because my current form bears similarity to a roden-“
“I said as much! You’re also a lad, are you not? Or would you beg to differ? Should I call you… Lady Ratlad?”
For all of the dark thoughts that circled within her, Vale couldn’t help but spray the water she had been drinking out over the cliff’s edge, where they were seated. It seemed, that there were still things capable of scaring her venerable guide.
The Gravelord, Lord Quietus Vingrave.
Who bore the skeleton of a rat and strode with the grace of a noble. Vale watched with a smile, as her guide whirled his tiny walking stick of ivory with unparalleled grace and confidence, no doubt preparing a reposted in the form of A biting retort to return the blow Shiver had inflicted.
Then, she caught sight of Caledon’s own expression. The lord smiled at her, a small mercy. But his gaze settled on the Dreadwood in the distance, his own mind far away.
Vale brought her eyes once more to the sight before them.
Their destination.
The Dreadwood, the Archcity of Life.
It had many names, as did the other Archcities.
One of them they had encountered, was the “emerald forest”. Vale had to agree with Quietus – it was a poor descriptor.
“Emerald” implied endless greenery, as far as the eye could see. Even the term “Archcity” implied the presence of a city. From her knowledge, there was a city located at the heart of the Dreadwood, bordering the Dawntree – the city of Viridian – their destination. Vale interrupted Shiver and Quietus’ bickering to signal her agreement.
“It is dreadfully misleading, Lord Quietus. It hardly even looks like an Archcity to me”
Yet, to call what laid before them a ‘forest’ was to do it a disservice. The lands of House Flora were immeasurably vast, fading into the horizon, and were composed of innumerable…
They’re biomes. Pockets of life.
Vale’s eyes passed over soaring white cliffs in the distance. At first glance, they seemed to be covered by trees with glittering orange leaves – similar to Brimstone’s own Autumntrees. A striking and beautiful sight on its own.
Only, those same cliffs were consumed by flame.
The “Emberwood” burned eternally. Flames which would have threatened to reduce the surrounding lands to ash instead burned harmlessly, emitting not a wisp of smoke or ash.
Her eyes moved to the biome adjacent to the Emberwood. A section of the forest where all light that entered it was consumed, shrouding it eternally in darkness. The unimaginatively termed, “Shadow Woods”.
Further along, was another biome which attracted constant spears of lightning into its midst. Once touched by the lightning, the trees started to glow, imbued by the bolts. The creatures that roamed the area fed off the energy, creating a self-sustaining ecosystem.
Just a small number, of the countless biomes she had heard of.
Trees that seemed to be born of winter itself, bearing a silver bark and sprouting flowers with petals like snowflakes, enshrouded by a perpetual blizzard.
A forest of stone, made up of towering, petrified trees that had persisted from the beginning of time.
Countless miracles comprised the Dreadwood.
Yet the most miraculous of them all, stood at its heart.
The Dawntree – sunset’s thief.
The vast tree the size of a city eclipsed swathes of the Dreadwood in its shade, situated at its very epicentre, perched over the city of Viridian where Highlady Solastra, and their quarry were located. The wind swept through an ocean of leaves that comprised the Dawntree’s canopy, far above them, even perched as they were on the cliffside in the distance.
Its scale put the Verscallian Peaks that bordered Brimstone to shame.
They had heard tales of how its leaves would steal the ephemeral hue of the sunset, gracing the land with a glow of the same hue in twilight.
Vale itched to see it.
“Quite a sight, aye? You must be our guests from Brimstone, welcome to our humble town.”
The chief of the Village of Eleric, accompanied with two of his attendants joined them on the cliff edge. Vale quickly rose to her feet, receiving with the Mayor with a practiced smile. Caledon joined her, as Shiver remained seated looking out at the forest, her Phobia on her lap.
“Mayor Galethorn, thank you for your hospitality. My name is Vale, and these are my companions, Shiver, and Caledon Brimstone.”
The mayor’s eyes widened at the mention of Caledon’s surname. He turned to regard Caledon.
“We heard of the tragedy that struck Brimstone, my lord. Our deepest condolences. Your father was a dear friend to our Highlady.”
His gaze slipped to the black skeleton that accompanied them, his hatred plain beneath his empty smile. Two of Eleric’s guardsmen remained nearby, watching the skeleton closely, casting her barely concealed looks of revulsion.
“We all lost loved ones to the Rampage. I myself, lost my wife and only daughter. We know the pain the Revenants wrought.”
The mayor’s eyes met with Vale’s own, and the cordial smile she had plastered on her face melted from it in an instant. Vale lowered her gaze.
She had considered concealing Triol. Keeping him at a distance. She was sure, however, that word had already spread from her time in Brimstone. Sakar had sent word of their arrival ahead of them, to ensure that they would be received by the Highlady upon their arrival.
If she hid her undead, and was later discovered. She was certain, she would end up joining them.
Caledon took a step forwards.
“Mayor Galethorn, I understand your apprehension, but these are my trusted allies. Vale and I-“
His gaze broke off to meet her own momentarily.
“-seek the same vengeance.”
The mayor let out a long sigh, his eyes finally coming to rest upon Shiver.
“Of course, Lord Brimstone, but you will forgive me if we take precautions. Tell, your “friend” that her undead must be housed outside of the city while you stay within our walls. We would be happy to accommodate your stay here and to equip you with whatever provisions you need for your journey into the Dreadwood.”
His eyes glinted as he spoke.
“Highlady Solastra Flora welcomes you as her honoured guests. Do not hesitate to prevail upon me if I could be of assistance.”
Without another word, Mayor Galethorn withdrew, back towards the town.
“They hate us.”
Caledon nodded his agreement to Shiver’s observation.
“They’re afraid of us. We should leave as soon as possible. A day or two at the very most.”
“Don’t run off into the woods without us lordling. I’ve got my eye on you.”
Caledon grinned. Vale hid a smile.
“Now to the important matters, do you think this charming town sells popsicles?”
Despite everything, some things never changed.
---
They entrance drew a mixture of attention. They were received with gazes both distrustful and curious.
The Town of Eleric bordered the Dreadwood and was one of the numerous border towns that facilitated the delivery of grain and produce from the Dreadwood to the other cities. They profited from the lucrative trade generated by House Flora’s status as the grainstore of elven civilisation.
Its wealth was evident in cleanly paved roads, and buildings reminiscent of Brimstone’s upper circle. They headed towards an inn they had been allocated, courtesy of the Mayor.
“Excuse me miss? Why are you wearing that coat?”
Shiver paused as she felt a tugging on her hem of her coat, drawn away from dark thoughts. She looked down to see a girl around Blaze’s age, staring up at her with wide eyes, filled with curiosity. Mousey brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore a distinctive red scarf.
Shiver felt a pang of emotion in her chest which she fought down.
A mischievous smile reached her eyes as she crouched to face the girl.
“Hi there. This? Tell me, have you heard of the elusive emberhare?”
The little girl shook her head. Vale exchanged a glance with Caledon.
“The cutest bunnies you can think of. With a soft, ash-black coat. You envisioning it?”
The girl nodded enthusiastically.
“Now picture them - on fire. Flaming bunnies, hopping around the winterlands. Legends said never to have been glimpsed for an age. My coat is made from their-“
“That’s it?”
Shiver choked at the girl’s expression of…
Boredom. Utter boredom and disinterest.
Vale and Caledon exchanged a glance, and a grin, before awkwardly wrenching their gazes away from one another.
“The Dreadwoods have winterlions, shadow wolves, even phoenixes! The fire bunnies are boring! We have plenty of them in the Emberwood!”
The little girl harrumphed, and proudly lifted her cloak to Shiver. Caledon, who stood behind them stiffened at the young girl’s words.
“Mine is made of frostwolf hide. It keeps me nice and chilly as summer arrives. You should get one miss.”
An eyebrow twitched as Shiver watched as the girl proudly strode back to her friends, enshrouded by the thrill of victory.
It had been a single-sided domination.
“Hmph.”
Vale walked over to Shiver, laying a placating hand on her shoulder.
“Now, now you crazy orphan. Let’s not cause any troub-“
“Impressive, she has potential. Reminds me of myself when I was her age. 8/10.”
Vale raised an eyebrow.
“How exactly could she improve on that score?”
Shiver leaned back and crossed her arms.
“Maybe if she injected more pity into it. Or pointed me towards the nearest tailor. She has potential. Maybe this town isn’t so boring after all.”
“Come on, Shiver. Let’s eat some proper food and sleep in an actual bed. We’ve been on the road for days and I’ve waited long enough for this.”
Shiver grinned at her.
“Your lofty goals never cease to impress me, princess.”
