Unchosen Champion

As the daytime temperature faded, a light ground fog further coalesced within the forest. An even coat of vapor radiated from the earth. It was far more noticeable than the light wisps of spectral energy that constantly trailed the Mistwalker, but the two combined to add a haunting feeling to the area occupied by the Revenant of Ghost Reef.

Coop stalked through the grassy clearing, steps disturbing the initial thickening of natural mists as if he was wading through shallow water. He was slowly turning his head side to side as he scanned the edges of the dusky forest beneath scowling brows. Nothing moved. The motionless branches seemed to lean over the empty space, threatening to suffocate the clear area with grasping, moss-covered fingers. They certainly didn’t help with the ominous atmosphere.

In the background, craggy rock walls, covered in lichens, were barely visible in the darkness, marking the foundation of further levels in the forest. The buds of flowering spiderworts, clinging to the loose soil caught in natural grooves, had already closed up, and were waiting until the next morning to expose new purple petals to the shady domain. Up top, dwarf oaks occupied the exposed surface of cut sandstone glades, where other trees failed to grow. The obstructions made portions of the forest feel confined, despite the rolling canopies and weaving, overgrown game trails that he had been following.

The dark crimson sky above was gradually filling with thousands of shimmering stars, revealing them one at a time as the red sun faded in the western sky. These were the last moments of half a day spent in the somber domain of the Fallen Zone where he had been stalked and eventually attacked. Coop wasn’t looking forward to the night.

He was staying alert for more projectiles as he finished crossing the open clearing in an unspecified forest within the Deep South. A combination of Presence of Mind, Fog of War, and good old fashioned human instincts magnified his senses beyond normal limits, but the forest continued to reveal nothing. It was as if the domain was emptied just for him.

The lack of any obvious enemies was far from a consolation for his fraying nerves. In fact, it had the opposite effect. He couldn’t relax, feeling like he was simple prey for a much more sophisticated alien predator. The unease seemed justified given the physical attack that had eventually come. It was like he was being toyed with. He would have much preferred a simple grind against increasingly difficult monsters. Standing toe to toe and skirmishing with the invaders was much more his style.

Once he reached the old sycamore that had caught the needle-like spine meant for his neck, he turned back and slowly rotated, carefully scanning the clearing. Detecting nothing, he checked the needle, tilting his body to the left and right to carefully observe the only physical clue of his experience in the Fallen Zone. At least he could confirm that he wasn’t just paranoid.

A pitch black ice pick was embedded into the tree, surrounded by a small, inch-wide section of scorched bark. He rubbed his fingers along the tree, confirming that the bolt hadn’t had anything extra packed into the attack. It really seemed like a simple bolt, fired from a crossbow, or maybe a blowgun, tainted with a touch of the domain’s acid.

The needle itself was as thin as his pinky, and roughly half as long as his forearm. It had no embellishments along its surface and didn’t have any sort of projections that would help it stabilize in flight. He couldn’t imagine the creature it came from based on so little, but it had to have been relatively short range.

He flicked it, testing to see if it was reactive, but it only rang like he tapped an empty glass bottle, muffled by being embedded inside of a solid wooden base. It appeared to be nothing more than a solid metal spike. He turned back, lining up with its trajectory, and retraced its path with his eyes, raising a hand up to keep it straight.

On the opposite side of the clearing, another large sycamore tree, easily twenty feet in diameter, interrupted the flightpath. Either the needle had been shot from within the clearing at shockingly close range given his inability to detect his assailant, or it had some special properties that allowed it to pass through one tree and not the other.

“Hmm.” Coop wondered what he was looking for, finally engaging his thoughts with something other than the primal fear of being hunted.