Chapter 5: What the Jungle Hides

Upon Admiral’s urging, Tasya dons the cloak and vanishes.

"I’m ready," comes her voice, steady and assured.

Mischa steps beside her, placing one hand in the air where Tasya’s temple must be. She closes her eyes. Silence falls. A breath of cold air funnels through the dark jungle glade, unsettling the leaves. The others watch, still. For a while it seems nothing is going to happen...

Then, like a string pulled tight, Tasya and Mischa speak at once, their voices eerily synchronized, their tones flat and trance-like:

"The lights. The lights. Falling. Sinking into a pond of stars. Calm. Rest. Sleep. Eternal."

Mischa's head twitches slightly, as if watching something invisible.

"Small hands…many...black, oily. Reaching. Lifting. A whisper: ‘He saved you.’"

"Carried to a massive tree…shaped like antlers."

"The lantern…a stone table. Etrivel."

Suddenly, their voices shift in tone, no longer distant, slightly smoother, with an unnatural cadence. These are not the women’s words, but someone else’s, witnessed in their trance, and echoed through their mouths:

"You see, my dear mortal... the lights are not cruel. They are careless. They lure because they were made to. It is their joy to tempt and lay to rest."

"But the worg? The worg hungers. It is the beast who feasts. The lights serve it by nature, not by loyalty."

"I am no ally of the beast."

"I would save your friends from its trap. But you must invite me to follow the Lantern. It will not heed me otherwise… and thus, I cannot help."

Then a difference voice is mimicked in unison by the two entranced women:

"Tasya!?"

The trance breaks. Mischa stumbles slightly, blinking as if surfacing from water. Tasya reappears, pale and shaken, clutching her arms tightly to her sides.

Admiral frowns, thinking. "If Etrival got his claws in Jin, I imagine he could have taken him as far from here as he liked but, if he didn’t… if he’s still nearby… That tree you mentioned— the big one shaped like antlers— I reckon we might be able to find that." He glances up at the canopy overhead. "I’ll try to get a better vantage point and see if I can spot anything like that poking up above the rest of the canopy. Wait here a minute."

Without further ado, he scrambles up the nearest tree, clambering up through the twisted branches toward the very top of the canopy.

Admiral's climb is long, but surefooted. He makes steady work out of wide jungle limbs and thick vines, which prove far easy for him after jumping around the slippery rigging of his own ship. The climb up through the canopy is dark and cold in this part of the jungle, but when he finally breaches the top, pushing through the last curtain of broad leaves, a beautiful stunning view of daylight is revealed.

The humid forest stretches in all directions, a sea of tangled green, broken only by rare shafts of golden sunlight slicing down between thunderclouds and branches. But one distant shape punches dramatically through the treetops.

It’s the tree that Mischa and Tasya utterd, the tree shaped like an antlers. It looks like a fortress standing lone in a jungle valley surrounded by rocky hills and cliffs.

A colossal trunk, dark and gnarled, rises well above the rest of the thick jungle. Its upper boughs don’t spread like a normal canopy. Instead, they arc upward in branching curves, sharp and skeletal, like the towering rack of a titanic stag. Some limbs seem broken or twisted, lending it a strange, jagged silhouette, more like a crown, or a bone shrine stretching toward the sky. Pale moss covers the massive trunk.When Admiral turns and looks nearly in the complete opposite direction he can make out the stone slab that perches above the Makai temple over a mile away.

Admiral lingers to admire the view for a minute or two and then disappears once more into the dense rustling canopy. It feels a bit like diving underwater, the way the light changes as he descends through the leaves.

"Well, I’ve got good news and bad news," he says as he drops down to the forest floor beside Tasya. "Good news is I definitely saw the tree. Bad news is it’s a fair way away. Probably four miles or so. I think we ought to take a short break to gather our strength and prepare for the trek and then we’ll get underway."

"That is good news. I'm relieved that you've seen where Jin is. I'm still worried that that fey lord is trying to manipulate him. But Jin did said my name, so he must now know that, at least, I am safe. Hopefully he'll assume everyone is with me and is also safe. That will likely give him the understanding and leverage he needs not to succumb to the fey lord's manipulation," assures Tasya.

Turning to Khyree who stoically but obviously is shuddering from the poison rushing through her, Tasya agrees, "So, yes, rest is needed."

The party moves clear from the area where Admiral dropped the dire worg beast and takes time to reap the benefits of a short rest. Regan takes care of Khyree's poisoned blood.

"I hope so," Admiral agrees with Tasya. "I don’t have any way to send him a message myself. Unless anyone else does, I think all we can do is get there as quickly as possible and hope that he doesn’t fall prey to any of Etrival’s tricks in the meantime."

Admiral tends to his own wounds during the rest and, once everyone is refreshed and ready to go, he pulls out his compass and summons Reaver into his other hand, ready to lead the way through the jungle.

With Admiral leading the way and Regan taking the rear, the party sets out from the shadowy area of the jungle where the lights led them and where the dire worg once prowled. The ground is darker here from the shade of trees that once sheltered the fey lights. The boughs creak overhead in the faint breeze.

But as they push farther on, the darkness begins to recede.

Slowly, sunlight begins to filter through a thinning canopy, caressing the jungle floor in green and gold. The moisture in the air deepens, carrying the rich perfume of moss and orchids. Thick ferns unfurl. The party begins to see movement. A hummingbird with translucent wings like stained glass flits past. A trio of insects drift through a beam of sunlight, their bodies like tiny lanterns, pulsing faintly as they vanish into the underbrush. A chameleon turns its skin to shifting petals as it disappears along a vine.

After an hour or so of travel the jungle seems to welcome them. It breathes around them.

Then, as they carry on, it changes...

The green begins to pale. The lush vibrancy softens into muted tones, as if colors are being wrung from the world. The undergrowth becomes sparser, but the vines grow thicker, arching overhead, curling unnaturally into shapes that seem intentional. Soon, the sky above is all but hidden again, swallowed by a twisting lattice of branches that become increasingly jagged, reminiscent of the Antler Tree branches Admiral had seen earlier in the distance.

Sunlight becomes a memory, fading in degrees.

The air grows cool, not cold, but dim. Heavy.

Then they notice a path.

It seems natural, just a clearer route between the trees, but it’s too convenient. The roots are spaced just right for stepping. The stones are too neatly placed. It winds in the direction Admiral had been leading the group.

Cordey frowns, falling back to walk beside Admiral.

"Wasn’t that tree behind us before?"

Regan glances upward and moves to the front of the party next to Admiral and Cordey.

"Admiral, is the canopy’s moving?" he mutters. "Not blowing. But moving."

The forest has become quiet. Too quiet. The gentle fey-touched insects are gone now. No birdsong. The hum of the jungle has dulled to a low faint pressure in the ears, a growing pressure.

Admiral glances up at the canopy, watching for movement. "Something’s not right about this place, that’s for sure," he mutters, uneasily. He keeps walking, ears pricked and eyes scanning the surrounding forest for any sign of danger.

Admiral glances upward. It is subtle...but it seems like the dark jagged canopy closes tighter wherever he shifts his gaze, closing more tightly and locking out any dim grey light that might reveal a path to the sky above. Hard to tell if he is not imagining it though.

Urging the party forward, they follow. Admiral leads the party onto the odd path, which he believes heads in the direction of the Antler Tree.

As Admiral leads the group he feels pressure growing in his ears. The sounds of the party's steps, their breathing, and of the jungle itself start to meld together into a muffled hum. He begins to feel as if he is in a vacuum. He also begins to wonder if the path is still leading toward their destination or if it has been winding.

After some time they reach a fork in the path where they see two nearly identical routes winding through narrow vines and leaning trees. Both seem plausible, but no longer can Admiral confidently say which direction leads toward the Antler Tree.

Behind them, the path closes...not dramatically, just...overgrown, narrowed. Twisting vines subtly shift when no one's looking.

Admiral absentmindedly taps his compass with one claw, making the needle wobble, as he contemplates the fork in the path ahead. He’s been trying to keep track of their position in his head but the twisting path and mounting pressure have been making that difficult. He’s going to have to rely on his gut, his instincts as a navigator, to make a decision.

"This way," he says, confidently, keeping any trace of doubt out of his voice as he leads the way down one of the paths.

Despite the disorienting nature of this twisted jungle, Admiral’s expert sense of direction keeps the party on what he believes is a steady course toward the Antler Tree… for now. Trusting his instincts, he leads them down the right fork...the one he’s sure continues in the proper direction.

The deeper they go, the stranger the jungle becomes.

The trees grow increasingly gnarled, their bark split like old scars, and the underbrush thickens into tangled barricades of thorned briars. Towering above them, massive trees stretch jagged limbs like brambles, creating the unsettling impression of walking beneath the boughs of a titanic thorn bush.

For a time, the path appears straight and true. As far as the Rakasta captain can tell, they’re still heading in the right direction.

But something’s wrong.

The air grows oddly dry (unnaturally so for a jungle) and sound begins to fade. Footfalls on sticks, the occasional word exchanged between companions… all of it sounds distant, muffled, as though filtered through water or gauze. Admiral’s ears itch with pressure. He feels the need to pop them, but the elevation shouldn't be any higher than the valley floor he saw from the canopy earlier. It makes no sense.

Eventually, Admiral begins to feel what he cannot see: the path has been winding. Subtly. Deceptively. Always ahead, the way looks straight — but glancing back, sometimes there’s a clear bend in the trail behind them… and sometimes there’s no path at all. Just jungle. The way they came swallowed in shadow and thorns.

It doesn’t help that this part of the forest is almost pitch dark. Only a dim, grey half-light trickles through the suffocating canopy above. The humans in the group stay close behind Admiral, their steps cautious and quiet, except for Taresh who seems fully at ease in the shadowy gloom and Regan who takes up the rear, watchful. Cordey, half-sea elf, moves with a quiet confidence, unfazed by the dim, his eyes alert.

Admiral estimates they’ve made it about a third of the way to the Antler Tree...assuming his bearings haven’t betrayed him. But that assumption is growing harder to trust.

As he weighs their progress, the path widens unexpectedly.

Up ahead a crossroads:

Straight Ahead
The path forward stretches wide and strait...almost too perfect. Its soil is smooth, flat, and unusually free of debris. No roots jut from the ground, no stones break the surface. The trees lining it form a tall natural arch, their branches bending toward one another as if in silent welcome. A soft greenish light glows faintly above, diffused like sunlight seen through thick water. It's greener, much different than the rest of this jungle area. It feels…easy. Too easy. Almost as though it’s waiting for someone to choose it.



Left
To the left, the path begins with a short, dark tunnel through the hollowed trunk of an enormous, ancient tree. Its bark is knotted and blackened with age, and the arch is barely tall enough for a grown human to walk upright. Beyond the tunnel, the path continues, but it's blanketed in twisted thorn-roots that snake across it like petrified veins. Admiral notices there are sparse oily splotches clinging to some of the roots, and they are oddly placed, spaced about thirty feet apart. Air wafts from the tunnel. It smells slightly sweet…and faintly greasy and rancid.



Right
The right-hand path immediately begins to climb. It leads toward the canopy, winding upward across a slope choked with thick, briar-like growth. It is not built on a hill or ledge, but instead it's formed by briars cut between trees to shape the rising trail itself. The trail begins with tangled roots and continues with woody and thorny vines, some as thick as a man’s leg, others like wiry cords. The climb looks difficult, but not impassable. It certainly would require care. The light here is dim still, but there are brief shafts of grey misted glow high above...a hint that the canopy might be thinner at the summit.

Admiral narrows his eyes at the splotches of oil dotting the lefthand path. Boggles. Lord Etrival had a boggle, he recalls, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that path will take them to Etrival... It could just as easily lead them right into a nest of boggles waiting to ambush them.
He looks at the three paths more closely, searching for any clue as to which is the correct way forward.

It indeed has been difficult for Admiral keep track due to the efforts of this forest, but still, his navigation instincts tell him that the path to the left (with the root tunnel and oily splotches) is the one most likely to be heading the in the direction of the Antler Tree.

Admiral gives a thorough look at the path strait ahead. His examination, accompanied by a subtle vibration of his crystal shard, dispels some of the glamour of the path's appearance. It still seems strait (as did the previous paths they traveled) but in reality there is no green ahead. The trees there are still gnarled and the underbrush still is comprised of tangled barricades of thorny briars.

When Admiral peers up the ascending path to the right, he notices something that occurs so fast he doubts the others notice it. From out of briar growth, a winged humanoid figure suddenly lands on the thorny trail and just as quickly takes to flight to the other side of the path. It happens so fast, but Admiral thinks the figure held a lit lantern circled by glowing flying insects.


Tasya sighs in frustration at the pause in the crossroads. "How are we going to make to Jin before something terrible happens to him? This cursed place seems like its trying to confuse us."

Mischa rests her hand on Tasya's shoulder to calm her. "You know Tas, the connection we made may still be intact. If you wear the cloak, you could know what Jin is experiencing. There's still the same risk as before...that is for you to get mentally caught in his experience."

Curious, Admiral stares at the place where the little winged creature flitted across the path, tail twitching, until the sound of Tasya’s sigh reminds him of the task at hand.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea," he says, giving his head a little shake and turning back to the others. "It would slow us down and, even if we discovered that something terrible has happened or is happening to Jin, there would be nothing we could do about it except to keep trying to get there as fast as we can. Besides, this place gives me the creeps. I’d rather not linger any longer than we have to." He consults his compass again and indicates the left-hand path. "It’s this way, but… I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep us from getting lost," he admits. "I reckon Tasya’s right that this place is trying to confuse us."

Mischa nods in agreement, "It's definitely doing a good job of disorienting."

"Thank you Misha," Tasya says sincerely before continuing resolutely. "But Admiral is right we shouldn't linger. He's been navigating us through this chaotic place so far. That's our best shot to get to Jin. He rescued us from Jahore not too long ago, so I have faith he can rescue Jin from this cursed fey jungle too."

"Plus he has all our help," adds Rowan with a smirk as he thumbs toward the others.

A lone moth flutters out from tangled undergrowth and lands on Admiral's shoulder. Rowan sees it and moves toward Admiral looking like he's about to swat.

Admiral reflexively raises his hand to swat away the moth too, but stops himself short. There’s something nice about the moth—like an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

Feeling buoyed by everyone’s faith in him, he smiles and turns back to the path ahead with renewed determination. "All right, let’s not keep Jin waiting then, aye?"

Reaver in one hand and compass in the other, he climbs through the hollowed trunk of the tree, following the thorny, oil-splattered lefthand path.

The moth on Admiral’s shoulder flits away, gliding toward the thorn-choked climb of the righthand path before vanishing into the briars.

...

The group follows Admiral's lead into the hollowed trunk, ducking into the dark tunnel formed by it.

The interior is narrower than it appeared. Twisted thorn-roots blanket the inside of the trunk from floor to ceiling, curling around each other in dense, vein-like knots. Every step across them seems cause a faint shift.. a flex. When a boot brushes against a root or lands heavily on one, it subtly stirs...triggering a slow ripple, like breath moving through a sleeping beast. The whole tunnel feels like it’s exhaling around them.

Even once the party emerges from the tunnel, the passage continues in the same fashion: thorns and roots enclosing them in a claustrophobic, tunnel-like corridor.

But it’s the oily splotches that catch Admiral’s attention most.

They cling to roots and bark like spilled tar. At first glance, they seem like various sized areas of residue, that are clearly the source of the rancid, greasy smell that lingers in the air. But as Admiral inspects one more closely, he realizes they’re something else entirely.

They’re openings. Portals.

Each splotch is actually a ring of oily residue surrounding a dark aperture, most only a few feet wide, though some stretch as wide as five. Stranger still, they don’t look into anything that should logically exist beyond the rooty surface they sit on. One on a wall opens into a similar root corridor, but as if viewed from the ceiling, looking down. Another, despite being on the floor, shows the grey jungle canopy that should be above. Others shift perspective similarly. They're scattered unpredictably...on walls, floors, even ceilings, each spaced roughly thirty feet apart.

The scared boy traveling with them shies from the strange openings, and the rest of the group instinctively follows suit.

As far as Admiral can tell, this root-formed corridor continues in the direction of the Antler Tree.

Admiral leads the group further down the path, carefully avoiding the strange oily portals and keeping an eye out for the boggles that might have created them. He recalls seeing the boggles vanishing and reappearing through similar rifts during their encounter with the boggles that had captured Khyree, Rowan, and the boy and he worries that the boggles might be able to use these portals to suddenly surround and ambush them. His claws tighten around the hilt of his sword, on edge and ready for the first sign of trouble.

As they progress, the thorn-root corridor presses in around the party, no more than 10 feet wide at most. The deeper they go, the more alive it feels, not in the figurative sense, but in the noticeable twitch of the bark underfoot, in the way the roots shift slightly to account for their weight. A light adjustment of a vine when Taresh brushes past it causes a rhythmic ripple in the roots when two members of the party inadvertently step with him in time.

The party hesitates for a moment as the ripple subsides.

Cordey, who slowed beside one of the wider oil-rimmed apertures, narrows his eyes. "These things make my skin crawl," he mutters. The half-sea elf doesn’t linger, but none of them do. They press on.

The roots grow more expressive the further they press on, yet not seemingly hostile. At one point, Mischa’s boot meets the edge of a root slightly askew from the others, and the corridor responds with a low creak and a slow recoil, like a pulled tendon reacting to pressure.

Behind her, Rowan lets out a quiet curse, eyes flicking around the corridor. "Anyone else feel like this place is trying to make up its mind about us?" he says, voice hushed despite himself.

The tunnel narrows briefly before opening wider again.

In one of the much smaller oily splotches...this one on a knot of roots curving along the wall...the boy notices a beady yellow bulbous eye blinking open. The child screams, pointing at it.

Khyree, spots it and pulls the boy back. "Is that...?" she starts, but the eye quickly vanishes from the aperture.