Paradise
Lifeless trees lined the old cobblestone path leading towards the village. Brown leaves carpeted the ground and dry rot was covering most of the trees’ bark. Liz shuddered and felt dismal as she walked down this lonely path. She trailed a leather-gloved hand against a nearby oak as she passed. The bark flaked at the slightest touch and fell to the ground. Too late to save these trees. Ahead, unmaintained farmlands surrounded the village. The crops colored the land in varying shades of oranges and browns. Solemnly, Liz knelt next to the boundary stones on the edge of the farmlands. But when she touched one of the stones, the rune carvings refused to light up. So much for that protection, Liz thought before moving on.
At the end of the path, a handful of old wooden cottages gathered around a silent village square. A broken window shutter creaked in the distance, but there was not a critter to be heard or seen, not even a rat. Only the familiar spore sacs on the cottage walls remained. It reminded Liz of her hometown, even though she left that place a long time ago.
Liz continued past the yellow-stained cottage windows towards the village square. In the center stood a small roofed well surrounded by several empty market stands. Discarded boxes, barrels, and baskets lay scattered across the cobblestone square. She inspected one of the tipped-over baskets, spilling molded fruit and vegetables. The squashed musty tomatoes formed a pattern of streaks sprayed across the stones. She could read the frantic movement in the tomato-red strokes. People left this place in a hurry, and Liz had already guessed why.
This place was just like the previous towns she had visited south of the Great Glen. Another town that had fallen as the Scourge continued to spread, chasing away people and animals alike. This was the third village she visited this week, and the third that showed the same damned signs. They invoked painful memories Liz tried so hard to forget. How she wished Jacob was still here to lend her strength. Best not to dwell on those thoughts too much; she had to investigate this place for clues on her own. The people only left here recently by the looks of it. When did these townsfolk notice the signs and flee? Was there still a trigger or source of contamination to examine? Perhaps she could find some evidence in one of the cottages at the edge of the market.
Liz rummaged through the remaining market stands and storage boxes, finding little more than spoiled vegetables and dead rodents. At the well next to the market stands, Liz worked the wooden winch to raise a bucket of water. An acrid, sulfurous smell emanated from the bucket’s brown water. It almost made her throw up. Of course it’s stale. Liz’s supplies were dwindling by now, but they were still better than anything she was going to find here.
Searching the cottages next then. Liz picked one of the buildings left of the well. In front of the cottage, brown-gray inky caps overran the little flower beds. What little remained of the original sage and lavender looked wilted and dying. It was such a sad sight. Near the windows, Liz tried to peek inside, but the yellow stain made it difficult to see anything. Fortunately, she noticed that the cottage’s door only held onto the bottom hinge. Cracks were spreading along the dry timber’s nerves. At least she would have no trouble getting in.
The cottage’s inside was just a single room that doubled as a study and a kitchen. And it was a mess. Scraps of papers lay scattered all across the floor. Piles of small leather-bound books covered a small kitchen counter. Next to the central hearth fire was a cluttered study desk of sorts. An odd-looking glass box of sorts sat on the desk, filled with dirt and various shrooms. But what stood out the most was the graying man sitting at the desk. He was bending over, his lifeless head resting on his arms, his skin a sickly gray-blue. The man was missing his left hand; his arm ended in little more than a stub. Interesting. This was not something you’d find every day.
The figure at the desk must have been some kind of lore master or chronicler. Not a popular profession for small townsfolk. He could not have been dead for long, Liz knew. The place lacked that distinctive smell of decay. She could recognize smells like that by now; it accompanied the Scourge wherever it went. But why did this man stay here, when the rest of the village had fled the place?
Liz carefully winded her way toward the study desk, stepping around the scraps of paper and discarded books. She made sure not to damage any of them; she might want to inspect those later. Liz tried not to get too close to the man. It unnerved her to be this close to a dead body again. Such sights always brought up memories she’d rather forget.
All kinds of trinkets lay scattered across the desk. Small brass measurement tools, ink pots and quills, inactive rune stones, and even miniature gardening tools. Liz pocketed some of the small valuables, a few coins and gemstones. It would be enough to buy her fresh supplies and food at the next trading post. Besides, it was not as if the dead man had any use for it. Then she noticed a leather-bound notebook laying open on the table, beneath the man’s arms. Intrigued, Liz looked closer and studied the open pages. Apparently, this lore master was studying all kinds of mushrooms. The notebook contained detailed, annotated drawings. There were cross sections of a variety of different shroom caps, branching stems, and shapes she didn’t even have a name for. She recognized the shape of one particular cap. It was growing right next to the notebook in the little glass box. Curious, Liz looked more closely at the cap in the dirt-filled box. It closely resembled the inky caps outside the cottage, nothing special. Then she noticed the jagged splinters of glass where one wall used to be. Some kind of inky black dust speckled the remains of the glass wall.
Suddenly, a flash of blue light zipped by. Liz spun around, tracking the flash of light, her heart thumping. She recognized her luminescent guardian instantly. He often showed himself when she was facing imminent danger. What did I miss? Liz scanned the cottage, her heartbeat rising. Nothing stirred, the papers remained unmoved. The whole place was silent as the grave. She turned slowly, scanning the place. There was no movement near the door and windows. No shadows in the corners or lingering heat in the cold logs of the heart fire. Then, her elbow bumped into something.
It all happened in a split second when Liz nudged the dead man. As if time had slowed down, she watched his body lean to the side, tilting off the chair. With horror, Liz noticed the large fungal hump growing out of the man’s chest. The body twisted as it slid off the chair and the hump stretched and strained. Terrified, Liz wrapped a piece of cloth before her mouth and nose, and she ran out of the door. Behind her, she heard the body hitting the floor with a sickly thump; the hump ruptured with a loud crack. In a sudden burst, a cloud of black spores exploded from the hump and jetted out of the door opening. She could hear shattering glass above the sudden rush of air and spores.
Liz scurried down the cobblestone path, a cloud of spores obscuring her view. She bumped into one of the cottage walls. The large bracket fungus growing on the side of the wall ruptured. Its spores mixed with the violent black cloud spreading over the village. Liz held her breath as she ran with eyes half closed towards the farm fields. Lumps of spores clung to her cloth. They were already unfurling their fungal strands like invasive tendrils creeping across the fabric. A pungent, musty odor seeped through the cloth. She almost opened her mouth to vomit, but checked herself just in time.
Liz ran until the black spore cloud dispersed. She was well past the fields by now, near the tree line. Her heart pounded in her ears as she leaned with one hand against a nearby tree. Ripping the cloth from her mouth, she inhaled sharply. With a ragged breath, she sagged against the tree, letting her body slide to the ground.
Slowly, Liz’s breathing returned to normal again. She spared a glance at the fungi-infested cloth next to her. Every inch was consumed by now and little shroom caps started to sprout. The fungal strands crept along the ground, annexing the surrounding soil. Shit. Liz reached for the fire rod in her backpack. She built a haphazard ring of stones around the shrooms, tossed a few twigs on top, and activated the rod’s runes to ignite the fungi. A brief fervid fire consumed the fungi strands in a flash. Occasional bright green sparks jumped around as another cap burst. The unnatural light was fascinating, even mesmerizing, in its own macabre way. The strands stopped moving as shroom and twig and cloth turned to dust.
That evening, a cold fog bank encroached upon the fields and trees by the time Liz had set up her camp. She had found a small sheltered clearing next to a gentle brook. The place was a comforting distance away from the fungi-infested village. Still, Liz had set up some protective rune stones just to be sure. The air was refreshingly damp and earthy over here. A welcoming mix of oak and grass fragrances filled the air. It did wonders to mask the lingering moldiness and smell of scorched shrooms. Liz could almost forget about the unfortunate village for a moment. A simple warm root and carrot stew later, and Liz was feeling more like herself. Even her luminescent guardian had showed up. The blue spark of light danced around her in the red after-light of the setting sun. Was the spark joyful, or was that just Liz’s imagination?
Rummaging through her backpack, Liz took stock of her remaining supplies. She still had a few more carrots and an extra canteen of boiled clean water. She was running low on nuts and dried fruit, though. Unfortunately, none of the towns she visited recently had any salvageable supplies. Before repacking everything, she scribbled a few glyphs on her parchment map, marking today’s village. There weren’t many unscarred villages left in the region south of the Great Glen.
A loud, clattering suddenly caught Liz’s attention. It was not coming from any of the nearby bushes; it was closer. One of the small sacks on the side of her backpack jerked away and fell to the ground. That sack contained the coins and gemstones she collected from that lore master’s cottage. What kind of animal or magical trinket did she take with her by accident? Briefly, something inside the bag tried to move, then went still. What on Earth?
Liz undid the bag’s lacing. She was fully prepared to catch whatever runic device or rodent was hiding inside. She was not, however, prepared for a yellow-green gemstone shooting out of the bag. The peridot gemstone jumped in the air and changed directions erratically a few times. Then it slowed down and settled in a smooth orbit around Liz’s head. The gemstone buzzed with an inner green glow, almost like a heartbeat. What kind of twisted incantation had that old lore master cast upon this trinket? Whatever it was, this was far beyond her level of expertise.
She studied the gemstone in awe. It continued drawing smooth circles around her head, its green glow pulsating softly. Looking more closely, she could make out tiny runes all across the gem’s surface. These were unlike any of the runes she knew of. She felt… something there. Some kind of focus or concentration. It was almost tangible, something she could touch, in a manner of speaking. Familiar, like the bond with her luminescent guardian (who apparently disappeared again), but different in some undefinable way.
Reaching out, Liz tried to touch the gemstone during its next orbit. She opened her mind to the focus she felt radiating nearby. Then the gemstone connected with her fingertips, and a bright green flash blinded her. For a spell, her surroundings disappeared into the light. She saw… a shadow of a graying man. His facial features were barely visible. It was as if coarse brush strokes painted the man on the canvas of bright light. Verdant tones of green surrounded his silhouette, emphasizing the lack of color in his skin. The man turned around, unaware of Liz at first. She glimpsed a trace of remorse on his face. Their eyes met, and the man quickly hid his remorse with an enigmatic smile. Only then did Liz notice the man was missing his left hand.
The flash of light faded away, the camp surroundings and the night sky returned. Liz sat down in confusion. Belatedly, she remembered to breathe again. She recognized that man! But it could not be. How was he linked to that gemstone? And that place, sketched in tones of green! It reminded her of a clearing in a forest. Has she been there before? Unfortunately, the vision was too brief to tell. Liz followed her intuition and directed her attention back to the gemstone.
“What happened in that shroom-infested village?” Liz called out to the gemstone still orbiting around her head.
No response. The gemstone silently continued its smooth orbit. Its inner glow continued to beat steadily.
“I know you are in there!” Liz taunted. “Your shrooms scourged that entire village. Did you know that?”
Those were not my fungi, the voice in her head said, terse and harsh.
“So you are in there!” Liz called out triumphantly.
Good, at least she got a response now. Apparently, the old, departed lore master still possessed a sense of honor. And apparently, he knew a thing or two about what was happening to the world. Perhaps she finally had found a clue about the Scourge itself.
“Tell me,” Liz went on, “where did you get the shrooms in that glass box of yours?”
Silence again. Damn it! Here she was, finding a long overdue connection. A clue about what was causing the rampant spread of fungi across the lands. And it came in the form of a mute ghost lore master!
Liz stared at her campfire, considering her options. Meanwhile, the sun had completely disappeared behind the hills. Nightingales were signing their song, and behind her was the familiar scurrying sound of nocturnal critters. It comforted Liz. She always felt more at peace in the forest.
You know, if you were a pupil of mine, I would have reminded you of your manners. The voice eventually came to her mind. We haven’t even properly introduced ourselves.
Liz looked up at that. “Ah, so you are still there. Fair enough, I suppose courtesy can’t hurt. The name is Lizanne, Druid of the Glen.”
A Student of the Mother, truly? I don’t suppose you specialize in mycology by any chance? The gemstone sounded surprised. But I am getting ahead of myself. The name is Anoldius Quinnefyn, Chronicler of the Southern.
Liz imagined the man making a little bow with his introductions. So she found a pompous ghost lore master, great. Jacob would have burst out in laughter if he was still here.
“The Southern you said? Haven’t heard of that village.”
Not a village, the Southern Realm. Anoldius corrected her in her mind. And as to your inquiry regarding the shrooms, as you called them. I sampled them from the source to study the Scourge. I was close to understanding the interactions in the underlying fungal network when the samples burst and… caused my untimely passing.
Liz was only following half of what the man was saying, exactly what you would expect from talking to a lore master. She heard about the Realms before though…
She jumped up in surprise. “Wait, the Southern Realm? But the Realms collapsed well over two hundred years ago! When I found you, you couldn’t have been dead for more than a few days.”
That is correct. However, I decided this world was far too interesting to depart along with the Realms.
“But… how?” Was the man trying to confuse her on purpose?
That is what caught your attention? You do realize you are presently talking to an orbiting peridot. One that contains the essence of a departed human being?
“Fair point.” There was a lot about this conversation Liz was not prepared for. Alright, time to focus. Perhaps there was something in that jumble of words which could help her. “There was a network of sorts you were talking about?”
A fungal network, yes. It is called the mycorrhizal network: an unseen connection that links the fungi together. The network allows sharing nutrients and near-instant communication over vast distances.
“You’re telling me that the shrooms are talking to each other?” Liz raised an eyebrow.
A crude analogy, but it works. Anoldius sounded like her old mentor at that moment. The network explains how the fungi can grow so rapidly even in the most nutrient-deficient environments. And it also explains why the fungi collectively react to a threat in a split second.
Liz nodded along with the explanation, grasping most of it. Still, something he said earlier was nagging at her. It was possibly the clue she was looking for all this time.
“Hold on, you said you know where the source is?” Liz asked.
I did reveal that little detail, didn’t I? She could almost see him groan as he replied.
“You have to take me there!”
Oh, do I now?
“Look, I bet you weren’t studying the shrooms, er… fungi only out of curiosity.” Liz started. “A man with your… education has to feel some kind of responsibility towards protecting our environment. At least tell me where you found this source.”
She could hear the man sigh. Then he was silent again for a while. The campfire continued to crackle into the night. She almost threw in more arguments, then reminded herself. Better to let him crack first.
To be more accurate, Anoldius finally said, it is more a matter of how instead of where.
“What do you mean?” Liz looked up from her solemn study of the flames.
The source is not something I can point out on a map. Rather, it is the place where the network converges. A center one can only find by sensing the network’s underground flow. This sense is probably not something I can teach or transfer to you. Alright, I will help you. But don’t expect me to solve this menace for you once we find the source.
“Great,” Liz said, “we’ll leave at first light tomorrow!”
The night’s fog lingered well into the morning. The scents of wet leaves and damp grasses filled the forest. Birds chirped their playful morning songs and a yellow sun crested the hillside. Liz couldn’t help but smile. It was such a wonderful contrast to yesterday’s village. It even seemed to affect Anoldius, who continued his slow orbiting around her head. His inner glow beat steadily with a soft green light.
They had packed camp early that day and were now hiking for a good few hours. This far into the Glen, the terrain was rougher and more uneven as they followed the brook and made their way uphill. Anoldius had suggested heading north, deeper into the forest. He hadn’t picked up the flow of the hidden fungi network yet, but assured Liz they were heading in the right direction. Meanwhile, the brook they followed was winding around large boulders and stubborn great oaks. Occasional rocky rises produced tiny waterfalls, the water misting and glittering in the sun. In the trees, squirrels were busy collecting nuts and birds were feeding their hatchlings. It all reminded her of her hiking adventures together with Jacob, back before… before the incident.
Anoldius was a silent companion. He rarely made a sound as Liz climbed the next rise or group of boulders. His steady beating light almost seemed to mock her efforts as she continued her way uphill. Only on rare occasions did he break the silence, to guide her left or right where the brook branched and joined with other streams. Liz couldn’t help but wonder if this forest was familiar to Anoldius. Did he visit this place before, back when he was alive? Is that a thing lore masters would do, strolling around in nature? She knew so little about him, yet trusted his directions for some unknown reason. Besides, it was not as if she had any other leads to follow.
Around the next river bend, trees made way for a hilltop meadow. Wild barley, rye, and other grasses mixed with lavender and thyme to fill the stretch of land. It was a rough and unmaintained meadow, overgrown and with dense vegetation. This place was more difficult to cross than the forest earlier. Liz even had to use her knife to cut a path through the densest parts. And at one point, she almost trampled a burrow; causing the family of rabbits to scurry away from under her feet.
Halfway through the meadow, Liz stumbled upon the wooden remnants of something human-made. On a closer inspection, it looked like the remains of a broken cart or wagon. It was the first sign of civilization she had seen in days. Liz walked around the wooden structure, investigating. But there were no signs of cargo or anything human; the cart was empty. Whoever left it behind must have taken the contents and continued on foot a long time ago.
A flash of blue light suddenly zipped by, spiking urgently in front of Liz. It was her luminescent guardian. She paused immediately, scanning her surroundings. Had she missed some predator lurking in the grasses? No, it was something closer to her. Belatedly, Liz spotted the large spore sac hiding beneath the foliage next to the cart. She almost trampled the sac while circling the cart. Had her guardian not stopped her, it might have exploded into a spore cloud, or worse. Liz cautiously backed away and left the cart and spore sac behind.
Late that afternoon, the brook continued past the meadow and back into the forest. Dense grasses made way for tall oaks and large bracken wet with the occasional drizzle and brief rain showers. The path was easier to navigate and each day steadily brought them deeper into the Glen. The air turned cold and humid as they further ascended the hills.
Each night, Liz set out her rune stones and made camp beside the brook. A small fire kept her warm and did its best to dry her clothes. The meadow had supplied her with some much needed roots and herbs. Still, she had to ration her remaining supplies for dinner each night.
The toughest part of this journey was still the loneliness. Anoldius rarely made conversation, and it was in times like these that Liz missed Jacob the most. It was only by the sixth night that Anoldius spoke more than a sentence.
Have you noticed the trees? He said in her mind.
“Autumn is setting in early this far up,” Liz said between a spoonful of carrot stew.
It is the infection. The trees are becoming part of the fungi network.
Liz looked up from her stew and studied the trees. Up high, she saw the yellow leaves clinging desperately onto the branches. Yes, she could spot the shroom caps now. They grew like terraces out of the upper bark. She even spotted hints of dry rot.
“We must be getting close, Ano, though I’d wish you would not have told me in the dark of the night.”
In that moment, Liz became uncomfortably aware of the quiet forest. There was not a nocturnal critter to be heard. The source could not be far away now. She wished her luminescent guardian would visit her that night. He hadn’t shown up in the days after the meadow. It was not like him to be absent for so long.
Anoldius continued to buzz at the edge of her awareness. His unspoken question lingered in the space between them. They both knew they needed a plan once they reached the source. And they both knew they were in over their heads. Still, they could not back down now.
“Ano, do you think a fire rod could set all the shrooms ablaze?”
I… am not sure, Lizanne…
Liz finished the rest of her stew in silence. A vile aftertaste lingered as her mood turned sour. The next morning, the increasing smell of mold and decay was impossible to ignore.
The terrain changed as Liz and Anoldius continued further into the forest. They stopped following the brook yesterday. Ano had finally picked up the underground flow of the fungi network; it was finally strong enough to track the flow to its source. The trees were barren over here, and shroom caps were now growing at eye level. Yellow stain covered nearby boulders, much like the windows of the village Liz visited not so long ago.
The entire forest smelled of decay. Bark flaked off the tree trunks, the bracken had all but vanished, and the ground turned to a slippery mush mixture of leaves and crushed ink caps. Liz improvised a new face mask out of a spare shirt to keep most of the repulsive odor at bay. Even Anoldius seemed on edge, his inner glow beating more erratically.
The forest made way for a twisted and dense fungi ecosystem. Large bushes of spore sacs dotted the hillside. Towering hedgehog mushrooms two or three times her height rose around them like trees. The air was harder to breathe here. Liz’s eyes stung, irritated by the fog of spores. She halfway closed her eyes as she moved on, blocking out most of the airborne particles. Her surroundings turned into a glooming shade. Even sunlight had trouble reaching her at this point. They were truly in spore territory now.
There was a trail of sorts where the fungi was less dense. With caution, Liz followed the trail, winding around the hedgehog mushrooms and bushes of shroom caps. She really missed the presence of her luminescent guardian in this dark land. An ominous feeling followed her down this trail, yet there were no warnings from her trusted blue spark of light. It felt unnatural, as if she had lost a piece of herself.
With a sudden yelp, Liz stumbled to the ground, crushing inky caps along the way. Something solid beneath the decaying mush had tripped her. It felt like a rock or stone of sorts. On a closer look, Liz spotted rune carvings on what looked a lot like a farm’s boundary stone. Why would there be a boundary stone all the way out here?
Shocked, Liz quickly brushed away more leaves and ink caps, searching for clues. Nearby, she found other boundary stones with inactive runes, spread across the hillside like gravestones in a cemetery. She looked up and recognized the rough outlines of cottages in the nearby concrescence of shroom caps. It cannot be. Liz heaved away more of the leaves; her breathing quickened. There, beneath the leaves, were patches of cobblestones. It might have been a road or pathway once. Could she really be close to another scourged village?
Liz cautiously moved on, watching her step as she followed the old pathway. The mushrooms blocked out most light and cast oppressive shadows across the land. She lit her hooded lantern, her trembling hands almost spilling the lantern oil. She took a moment to steady herself, then followed the winding pathway further into the scourged village. Awe and dread filled her as she walked amongst the shroom-covered ruins of old cottages. The sound of her boots echoed in the lonely silence as she trampled dying leaves and crushed small ink caps. It was getting harder to ignore the moldy stench penetrating her face mask.
The towering hedgehog mushrooms and shroom-covered ruins made way as she approached a clearing. It could have been a market square or a village center long ago, judging by the surrounding remains of overgrown walls. Now it was just an ominous void deep inside shroom territory. The air grew even more heavy with each step she took. The light from her lantern cast sinister shadows on the ruins, dancing like demons at her funeral.
Liz gasped quietly when she cornered the next shroom-capped wall. There, at the far end of the clearing and rising high above the cottage ruins and even taller mushrooms, stood a massive spore sac. The sac’s fungal walls expanded and contracted, pulsating to a heartbeat she could not hear. A bright green glow emanated from the sac’s fungal walls, pulsating in sync with the wall’s movement. The surrounding dust-covered clearing bathed in its horrible green light.
With a dull thud, Anoldius’ gemstone dropped to the ground. Liz could feel his presence fading inside her mind as his light grew dim, a sharp coldness taking its place. Her body froze then, a sense of dread overcoming her. What was she thinking in threading upon this land of death and decay? Did she truly believe she could somehow eliminate these invasive shrooms and restore the Great Glen, all on her own? Madness, this was madness. There was no other word for her quest.
The lonely silence grew ever louder. The air became heavier, the mold smelling ever more pungent. No, she could not give up now. This abomination overtook her Great Glen. The shrooms claimed more dead trees every day. And this abomination was the reason Liz discovered yet another infested and abandoned village each and every day. She had to stop it.
Liz shook away her freeze; fear would have to wait. With renewed determination, she stepped forward, crossing the clearing. Shadows danced around her in the spore sac’s bright green glow like a menace. Breathing was getting more difficult with every step, the air thicker and full of spores. Even the flame in her hooded lantern started to flicker and dim the closer she got to the monstrous spore sac. A presence hovered on the edge of her awareness, similar to Ano’s thoughts, yet utterly alien. It felt… wrong in every way. And vast. Impressions clouded her mind. She could feel the beating heart of the entire forest, soaring like a bird above the canopy of shroom caps and spores. No, this was not her forest, it belonged to them. She could sense the Glen being consumed by this alien presence, sucking out every bit of life.
Her lantern’s flame quenched when she reached the base of the pulsating spore sac. Darkness enveloped her surroundings; a torrent of spores began swirling around her. The sickly glow was beating in front of her, nauseating her. Liz reached into her bag, taking out her fire rod. This was just another spore sac; the fire would consume it just like that infested face mask a few days ago. She flicked the rod. For a moment, sparks flew from the tip of the rod, igniting spores in the air. Then… nothing. The runes on her rod extinguished; the air grew cold again.
“No, no damn you.” Liz cursed. She flicked her rod again, willing the flames to return. The rod’s runes did not activate. Desperately, Liz grabbed her backpack, searching in the dark, and pulled out her flint and steel. She struck the steel against the flint, sending sparks into the air. It was not enough. The torrent of spores quickly quenches the sparks.
Fungal strands shoot from the spore sac, wrapping around Liz’s hands. Fiery stings pierced her skin. Liz’s fingers grew numb, and she dropped the steel. She screamed in agony. The fungal strands crept their way up her arms, sprouting twisted tiny shroom caps along the back of her hands and arms. A sudden black cloud of spores rushed through the air. It surrounded her, choking her and stunning her screams. Her vision swam, and she crashed to the ground. The impact punched out the last bit of air out of her lungs. The last thing she felt was the strands burning, creeping across her chest and invading the rest of her body. Then, nothing.
Silence… There was a certain peace to the quietness. No rushing cloud of death, no fiery pain creeping across her skin. Just… nothingness. Liz eased up, letting go of the tension. Slowly, she opened her eyes. A soft white light surrounded her. The air was pleasantly warm. She unfurled from her cramped fetal position and stood up.
The shrooms had disappeared. The air was clean and refreshing. She was supposed to breathe in the air, was she not? Confused, Liz stood up and took in her surroundings. The whiteness stretched all around her. It continued endlessly in all directions, except… there! In the distance, she spotted something green. She walked towards the speck of color with a little smile on her face. A fertile field of green grass and flowers, she realized, floating in the white nothingness.
Feelings of tranquility flooded her as she stepped barefoot on the grass. The verdant field tickled her skin. Hints of soothing lavender embraced her. Tension flooded out of her body, like a heavy cloak dropping off her shoulders. Briefly, Liz closed her eyes. Warmth, lightness, peace. She could just… stop, and be here forever.
Liz opened her eyes again. She was doing something important, was she not? Somewhere else. She looked around. There was a pond in the grassland, just to her left. The pond’s bright blue waters sparkled in the sunlight of a nonexistent sun. Hesitantly, Liz walked towards the shore of the pond and looked down into the waters.
There was a reflection in the dark blue depth of the pond. And a quiet and powerful sadness overtook her. Liz sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. There, in the depths of the pond, Liz saw herself. Her body lay on the dust-covered ground, fungal strands creeping across her skin amidst a dark vortex of spores. Her skin had turned a sickly gray as newly sprouted shrooms decomposed her.
“It is not natural, this infestation,” said a gentle, male voice. Liz recognized that voice all too well. “He did not tell you, did he?”
Liz looked up in confusion. It could not be. He sat across the pond, with that familiar minute smile on his face. Damn, how she had missed that smile.
“It is not too late, you know?” he said, “there is still time, if we work together.”
Liz’s eyes were filled with disbelief. “Jacob?”
“Yes, Liz.” Jacob said, “it’s alright, I’m here. I’ve always been around.”
“But… how?” Liz began, “I saw you… when the shroom-infested roof collapsed… what do you mean you’ve always been around?”
Jacob continued to smile. And for a moment, his skin lit up ever so faintly, a subtle blue glow illuminating his outline. That glow! Her luminescent guardian! That was Jacob? Liz could not believe it. And yet… he was always around, watching over her, warning her of any imminent danger. Keeping her company in the cold dark of the night.
“There is one last thing I have to do,” he said with a hint of remorse, “so we can stop the Scourge.”
Jacob glided toward her in that moment, his legs turning to blue swirls of mist. He extended his hand towards her. Liz hesitated at that moment. The gravity of what he was proposing suddenly hit her. Could she accept this, knowing what it will cost?
“Please Liz, accept this symbiosis. It is my final gift I can offer to you.”
“Jacob,” her voice cracked, a tear rolling across her cheek, “I cannot lose you, not again.”
Jacob regarded her in silence, his blue eyes staring at her, full of determination. Liz could feel his emotions, his resoluteness, his strength. He had already departed her long ago; this was his last part to play. But she was tired. Tired of losing more people. Tired of finding more infested villages. And tired of yet another swat of paradise being consumed by this relentless scourge of death and decay. She needs this strength. His strength. Strength to set things right.
Liz reached out and grabbed Jacob’s hand. A sudden rush of air enveloped her. With a jerk, the dust-covered ground sped toward her. A black cloud of spores spun around her as she dove into the eye of the fungal storm. She saw her body racing towards her as she neared the ground. A sudden flash of heat flooded her senses as her consciousness reconnected with her flesh. The tempest raged all around her, spores blasting around like a sandstorm. Aching shroom caps sprouted all over her skin, battling for whatever energy was left in her body. She could see the fungal strands creeping right in front of her eyes like some otherworldly tentacles, reaching for the last bit of unclaimed skin.
Then, the strands ignited with a bright flash. Shroom caps all across her body incinerated. Spores in front of her popped and burst into flames. A blue glow radiated from her body, pushing outwards from her skin like a protective bubble. The fire piercing her flesh vanished; her skin was her own again. She could feel Jacob’s energy pulsating through her veins, eradicating every last bit of spores inside her body.
With a defiant howl, Liz rose to her feet. Flashes of bright green sparks swirled around her as more spores burst into flames. She could feel Jacob rising together with her, complementing her newfound determination. The blue glow rushed outwards, pushing away the fungal storm in one powerful sweep, clearing her surroundings.
A wall of violent spores circled around and above her. The sounds of the roaring tempest and grinding sands flooded the clearing. The spores and shrooms continued to block out the sun. Her glowing skin was the only source of light. She could just make out the looming shade of the massive spore sack before her. The source of the shroom scourge continued to assault her, shooting tendrils of fungal strands her way. Each strand ignited as soon as it touched Jacob’s protective light. The abomination was not giving in, but neither was she.
Liz pushed against the spore tempest, moving slowly towards the spore sack. With each step, she could feel the spores resist, like a strong wind pushing back on her protective shell. Jacob’s blue glow pulsated fervently like a rapid breathing. His light pushed away the spore wall in front of her. Tendrils continued to shoot at her from the darkness. Each tendril reached a little closer before it ignited and fueled the sickly smoke that built up and swirled at the edge of her shell.
Finally, Liz reached the massive spore sack, and the wall of spores formed an opening. The sack loomed before her like a towering storm breaker. Deep within the fungal tissue, she could see an angry green glow. The abomination was mad at her for refusing to die. A battery of fungal strands shot at her from all sides at once. The flashes of ignition blinded her. An acrid burned smoke filled her lungs as she gasped. A few tendrils had survived Jacob’s igniting glow. They dug into her flesh, restraining her arms.
With a final powerful blue pulse, Liz took Jacob’s energy and focused all of its strength. She ripped free from the tendrils and dove towards the spore sack. The blue light flooded from her hands into the sack, pushing away the inner green glow. A storm of light ripped through the spore sac and pierced at odd angles out from the fungal walls. The spore sac stopped pulsating and its tendrils dropped dead to the ground. The tempest of spores became erratic and cracked. Bright fragments of sunlight started to pierce through the dispersing spore cloud.
The ground trembled and shook. Shrooms around the spore sac started to break and topple. A towering shroom cap came crashing down right at the edge of her protective shell. With a violent burst, a jet of spores streamed out of the rupturing spore sac. The spores shot right past her face and crashed into the remains of a nearby cottage wall. Liz scrambled to her feet and dashed away from the bursting spore sac. Rains of spores scraped her face like daggers as the surrounding tempest crashed in on itself. She sped towards the edge of the ruins, dodging toppling shrooms crashing left and right off her. Clouds of dust, spores, and debris bloomed into the air with each impact.
Liz dashed ahead with her eyes half closed. The sky looked brighter ahead as she reached the edge of the spore-and-dust storm. She weaved her way around the shroom corpses and turned around the corner of an overgrown cottage wall. There, past the clouds and chaos, she finally breathed again, sagging against the wall, eyes closed. The last remnants of Jacob’s blue glow evaporated from her body. Sweat trickled down Liz’s face, her breath ragged as her dry lungs sucked in the fresh, humid air.
Warm sunlight shone down with all its strength. Liz felt wrung out like a cloth. Her body ached in places she didn’t know could ache. Her stiff back leaned against the soft, moss-covered wall. It was a small thing, something soft, but in that moment it meant the world to her.
The place was silent once more. No rushing torrent of death and decay, just a gentle breeze. Almost like that place of infinite whiteness, but more real this time. Slowly, the realization sank in. She’d done it. No, they had done it, Jacob and her. Jacob…
Hesitantly, Liz opened her eyes again and took in her surroundings. The remains of tall mushrooms lay scattered across the dust-covered ground, like fallen trees after a violent storm. Tumbled shroom towers had wrecked several of the old ruins, the cottage walls crushed and roofs caved in. There was a whole cluster of ruins here, more than Liz recognized earlier. She was sure of it now: this was a village once. The site of the source would have been a village square before the spore sac had taken over.
Liz pushed herself up on bruised hands and dusted off her clothes. Dead spores like gray dust fell to the ground. No strands unfurled this time; the spores remained inactive. It really was done then. With slight disbelief, Liz started walking around. Nearby bracket fungi already showed cracks and were falling off the cottage walls. Even the ink caps close to the ground were sagging.
She walked down the roads and gravel paths winding between the ruins of the village. Everywhere, mushrooms were fading and withering away, like macabre tentacles releasing their grasp over this place. She could now see signs of what life must have been before the Scourge. Beddings of what could have been little kitchen gardens, debris of ancient market stands or supply boxes.
Near one of the ruins, Liz found Anoldius’ gemstone again. She picked up the yellow-green stone, and it buzzed for a moment. A faint light appeared at its core, pulsating weakly. Then it slowly rose, floating in front of her. At the edge of her awareness, his familiar presence reappeared. But it was fainter than before, damaged and weak.
Liz! What happened? Anoldius began. Did you… is it really gone?
“Yes,” Liz said, her voice dry and weary, then she silently continued walking amongst the ruins.
They approached the old village center; it looked like a battlefield. The entire square was littered with the corpses of toppled shrooms. Black, dried out fungi tendrils sprawled over the dust and sand square like dried out weeds. And here, at the center of the square, stood the jagged remains of the monstrous spore sac. Defeated, its horrid fungal walls were cracked and chunks flaked to the ground. The sac was no longer pulsating; its green glow extinguished. Liz had to see it to really believe it.
Anoldius let out a soft whistle. Damn Liz, I cannot fathom how you managed to cause that!
Well, that made two of them. Truth was, Liz still was not sure what had happened with her and Jacob. Her luminescent guardian was gone now, though. Jacob had given his last bit of strength and energy in her hour of need. She lost him before, but that somehow didn’t make it easier to lose him again.
Liz knelt in the center of the square. Gently, she brushed away spore dust and sand to dig a small hole. From her backpack, she took a seedling and placed it in the hole, covering it with sand.
“Tell me one thing Ano,” Liz asked, her voice quiet, “why did the shrooms affect you like they did?”
He remained silent for a while. Liz could feel his emotions spiking at the edge of her awareness. She sensed sadness turning into anger, then growing cold, till all that was left was remorse. Meanwhile, she used the last bit of water from her canteen to water her seedling.
Lizanne… Anoldius finally said, I created those spores.
Liz felt her mind go numb. All that decay, all that loss. Her hands trembled a little at that moment. This was too much. Solemnly, she retrieved an elder twig from her backpack and started carving runes in the sand surrounding the seedling.
The Scourge, I never intended to enchant the fungi. Anoldius continued, You must understand, famine struck the Southern Realms. Crops were rotting away. I had to do something, find a solution. The goal was to boost our food production, not… this. Regardless, I should have been more careful. I should have used clean samples for my research… I should have…
Liz didn’t respond. When she carved the last rune of her circle, all runes lit up with a soft, white glow. The seedling sprouted above the sand and unfurled, a tiny green strand rising and unfolding its newly formed leaves. It was a start, a beginning towards rebuilding her paradise.
With blank eyes, Liz regarded Anoldius’ gemstone, floating nearby. He didn’t spin around her head like he normally did. She had not fully reconnected with Anoldius. And with what he just told her, she never could connect with him again.
Then, with a sudden, icy determination, Liz stood up. Her emotions pushed away the physical aching. She grabbed her backpack and turned her back on Anoldius and the ruined village. Resolute, she walked away towards the edge of the forest.
Lizanne… Liz…
But Liz did not look back. Anoldius continued to float lonely above the newly sprouted seedling, the glowing pulse of his gemstone weakening. At that moment, Anoldius was the only one to see the faint blue light that was coalescing on the ground. A fuzzy blue spark spiraled around the seedling, then merged with it. The seedling grew and glowed brightly as a peridot gemstone dropped to the ground, lights extinguished.