The Whispering Woods

The Whispering Woods

(A Oracle Stone short story.)

By: William Feeley 2024

William Carelock adjusted his hood against the dappled sunlight filtering through the treetops. The forest was alive with the chatter of birds and the hum of insects, yet something about it felt hollow, like the sound of a laugh without joy. The Oracle Stone had stirred in his tunic earlier, the pulsing warmth against his chest faint but insistent. He knew better than to ignore its call, even if it meant leaving the safety of Matrum's estate to venture into the unknown.

The trees thickened as he pressed deeper into the woods, their trunks gnarled and twisted like the hands of ancient giants. Moss clung to their roots, and the scent of damp earth filled his nostrils. He marked his trail with careful notches in the bark, using his dagger to carve quick, clean lines. His other hand rested on Retribution's hilt. The sword had been his constant companion since the Vale of Shadows, its presence both a comfort and a reminder of the burden he carried.

The afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The trail he followed had grown faint, more suggestion than path, but he trusted the Oracle Stone's guidance. It pulsed again, slightly stronger this time, urging him onward.

"This had better lead somewhere," William muttered under his breath. The sound of his own voice felt intrusive in the stillness, and he fell silent.

As the light dimmed further, the forest seemed to close in around him. The trees stood taller, their branches interwoven to form a canopy so dense it blotted out the sky. The air grew cooler, tinged with a metallic tang that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A sudden rustle in the underbrush made him freeze.

He drew Retribution in one smooth motion, the blade catching what little light remained and casting it in a faint, silvery glow. His sharp eyes scanned the area, his muscles coiled and ready to spring.

Nothing moved.

It was then he noticed the silence. The birdsong, the insects, even the whisper of the wind—all gone. The world had stilled, holding its breath.

"Not a good sign," he murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The Oracle Stone burned hotter against his chest, its rhythm quickening. He placed a hand over it, as if to steady his own racing heart. The sensation guided him forward, deeper into the oppressive gloom.

He stepped into a clearing, and his breath caught. At the center stood a massive oak tree, its trunk wide enough to rival the walls of a fortress. Its bark was dark and knotted, but what drew his attention was the symbol carved into its surface. A circle, bisected by a jagged line, pulsed faintly with a pale, otherworldly light.

The Oracle Stone flared against his chest, urging him closer. William hesitated, his grip tightening on Retribution. The light from the symbol flickered, almost as if it were alive, responding to his presence.

"Well," he said, forcing a wry smile, "you’ve brought me here. What now?"

The forest answered. A low, guttural whisper echoed around him, rising and falling like the tide. It wasn't a language he recognized, yet it crawled under his skin, burrowing into his thoughts. Shadows pooled at the edges of the clearing, shifting and coalescing into shapes—humanoid, but wrong. Their forms wavered, as though they were made of smoke caught in an invisible wind. Eyes like pinpricks of starlight blinked into existence, fixing on him with a malice that was almost tangible.

William's grip on Retribution tightened. The blade pulsed faintly, its own magic resonating against the oppressive weight of the shadows. He took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run, but he held his ground.

One of the figures stepped forward, its movements liquid and unnatural. The whispers intensified, forming words that slithered into his ears like snakes.

"Leave this place, bearer of the Stone. You are not welcome here."

William swallowed hard but raised his chin. "The Stone brought me here. If you have a problem with that, take it up with it."

The shadows hissed in unison, a sound that made his blood run cold. The lead figure surged toward him, its form stretching and twisting as it closed the distance. William moved on instinct, raising Retribution to meet the attack. The blade sliced through the shadow, which dissipated with a shriek, only to reform moments later.

The other figures joined the fray, circling him like wolves. William fought with precision, his sword humming with the power of the Deep Magic. Each swing cut through the shadows, momentarily banishing them, but they reformed almost instantly, their movements more frenzied with each pass.

The Oracle Stone burned against his chest, its light growing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. The shadows recoiled, their whispers turning to wails of agony. William shielded his eyes with one arm, the other still gripping Retribution.

When the light subsided, the clearing was empty. The shadows were gone, their presence erased as if they had never been. The symbol on the oak tree no longer glowed, its magic seemingly spent.

William lowered Retribution, his chest heaving with exertion. He stared at the tree, a sense of unease settling over him. The Oracle Stone had brought him here for a reason, but whatever he was meant to find—or learn—remained a mystery.

"Thanks for the help," he muttered, though whether he was addressing the Stone or the tree, he wasn’t sure.

A faint trail had appeared at the edge of the clearing, winding its way back through the forest. With no other options, William sheathed Retribution and followed it, his steps slow and deliberate.

When he finally emerged from the woods, Altanie was waiting, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed. Her piercing eyes scanned him, taking in the dirt on his tunic and the weariness etched into his face.

"Find what you were looking for?" she asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.

"Not sure," William admitted, brushing a hand through his dark hair. "But I’m starting to think the Stone enjoys dragging me into trouble."

Altanie’s lips quirked in a small, rare smile. "Sounds about right. Come on. Matrum’s waiting, and you look like you could use a drink."

As they walked back toward the estate, William glanced over his shoulder at the forest. The shadows were gone, but their presence lingered in his mind. Whatever the Oracle Stone had led him to, it wasn’t finished with him yet.