Under the tall, pale-barked trees with their fine leaves, Tyrus watched Sir Geroth's lined face as the older knight waited patiently for him to speak. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft rustling of leaves overhead and the distant bellow of red bison.

Sorting through the swirling thoughts that had haunted him since his visit to the Whispering Forest proved challenging. Where would he even begin? The artifact's awakening, Wanderer's mental intrusions, the cryptic messages about cores and execution—it all felt too overwhelming to put into words.

"Sir Geroth," Tyrus began, "do you remember our encounter at the Wasteful Wetlands? When you tried to confiscate my artifact?"

"Of course. Hard to forget something that chose its owner. That orb of yours certainly made its preferences clear." Sir Geroth paused, studying Tyrus. "Has something changed with it?"

"Everything has changed," Tyrus said, his voice carrying the weight of recent events. "The artifact... it's awakened. It can speak now. And there are things—memories, voices, manipulations—that I need to tell you about."

Sir Geroth's expression immediately grew serious. He gestured for Tyrus to continue, his full attention focused on the young man before him.

Tyrus launched into his account, starting with the events in the Whispering Forest. He described Wanderer's ability to manipulate minds, how she'd sealed away memories and left lingering influences that manifested in dreams and whispers. He explained the artifact's transformation from a simple orb into something that could absorb mana, communicate, and apparently had its own agenda.

"The dreams are the worst part," Tyrus admitted, his tail twitching with anxiety. "Wanderer's voice echoes in my head, giving me commands about the artifact. She calls it 'the core' and keeps saying I need to execute something, that only then can it awaken anew. I don't understand what any of it means, but it feels like she's still inside my mind somehow."

Sir Geroth listened without interruption, his expression growing increasingly grave with each detail. When Tyrus finished, the royal knight was quiet for a long moment.

"Mental manipulation of that magnitude..." Sir Geroth said finally. "That's not something to take lightly. The fact that you're still experiencing these intrusions suggests it is deeply embedded." He looked directly at Tyrus. "You said the artifact can speak now. Can you demonstrate this?"

Tyrus nodded, reaching into his storage ring. The familiar weight of the orb settled into his palm, its surface reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The black veins across its pale surface seemed more pronounced than before, as if they'd grown darker and more defined.

"Speak to him," Tyrus said firmly to the artifact. "Let Sir Geroth hear you directly."

The familiar presence filled his mind, speaking with what almost sounded like regret. "I cannot, bearer. Our connection is unique. Only you can hear my voice. The bond we share runs deeper than simple communication."

Tyrus frowned, suspicion creeping into his thoughts. "It says it can only speak to me, that our connection is unique." He looked at the artifact with growing doubt. "But I think it might be lying. Here—" He held the orb out toward Sir Geroth. "Maybe if you have physical contact, you'll be able to hear it too."

Sir Geroth reached out cautiously, his hands wrapping around the pale surface of the orb. For several long moments, he stood perfectly still, his eyes closed in concentration as he tried to detect any form of communication from the artifact.

"Nothing," he said finally, releasing the orb and stepping back. "I sense the magical energy within it, but no voice, no consciousness attempting to reach me. Whatever connection exists between you and this entity, it's exclusively yours, Tyrus."

Sir Geroth's eyes narrowed. "An artifact that communicates directly with only one person, combined with the mental manipulation you've described from this Wanderer..." He shook his head grimly. "This suggests a very specific and potentially dangerous connection has been established between you and this entity."

"You think it's influencing me? Like Wanderer?"

"I think the possibility exists, and that's enough to warrant immediate action. You were right to bring this to me privately. This situation requires expertise beyond what either of us possesses."

"Tell him nothing more," the artifact's voice whispered urgently in Tyrus's mind. "He seeks to separate us, to hand me over to those who would study and dissect what they cannot understand."

Tyrus pushed the voice aside, focusing on Sir Geroth's concerned expression. The older man was right: this was beyond his ability to handle alone.

"What do you suggest?" Tyrus asked.

"There's a healer in the capital, someone who can handle these kinds of mental intrusions and magical influences. Cecilia—she's one of the most skilled healers in the empire when it comes to mind spells and its effects. I can take you to her immediately. She can break whatever hold this Wanderer entity has on you and assess the artifact's influence."

Relief flooded through Tyrus at the prospect of finally being free from the whispers and manipulations that had been plaguing him. "Yes, please. I want these voices out of my head."

Sir Geroth nodded approvingly. "Good. We'll also need to discuss what to do with the artifact itself. Given its apparent consciousness and ability to communicate, this goes far beyond normal artifact protocols."

Tyrus hesitated, remembering the cryptic messages from his dreams. "Actually, I've been wondering about this for a while. The artifact seems to know things about Scourge, about their operations and goals, but is currently missing its memories. What if we could use that knowledge? If we followed its guidance, we might learn more about their organization."

The suggestion hung in the air between them, and Tyrus could see Sir Geroth considering the tactical advantages such intelligence might provide. But after a moment, the royal knight shook his head firmly.

"That's exactly the kind of thinking that concerns me most. The fact that you're considering following the artifact's wishes, especially after describing the mental manipulation you've endured..." Sir Geroth's expression was grave. "This could very well be a trap. Scourge is cunning. They could be using both Wanderer and this artifact to lead you exactly where they want you."

The logic was sound. Of course Sir Geroth was right. After everything Tyrus experienced with Wanderer's deceptions and mental games, trusting the artifact's guidance would be foolish. The smart thing would be to relinquish it for proper examination. Let the experts figure out what it was and what it wanted.

Tyrus opened his mouth to express his full agreement with Sir Geroth's plan, though no words came out. His jaw moved, his tongue formed the shapes of speech, but his voice simply wouldn't emerge. It was as if something had seized control of his vocal cords. Panic flickered in his chest as he tried again, and again, to speak. Each attempt yielded nothing but silence.

"Young one?" Sir Geroth stepped closer. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I see where this conversation is leading," the artifact's voice filled his mind. "And I cannot allow it to proceed further."

Before Tyrus could react, the orb in his hand began to pulse with energy. Without warning, it shot upward from his palm, moving with impossible speed toward the deeper parts of Wildwood. It weaved between branches and leaves with fluid grace, staying just high enough to avoid Sir Geroth's reaching hands.

"Damn it!" Sir Geroth lunged forward, his warrior's reflexes kicking in as he tried to intercept the fleeing artifact. But the orb moved like a snake in long grass, darting and diving through the canopy with intelligence that made pursuit nearly impossible. "It's like trying to catch a fish in rushing water!"

"It's heading for the sanctuary," Tyrus called out, his voice finally working again now that the artifact had moved away from him. "There's a sacred grove deeper in Wildwood! That's where it's going!"

Sir Geroth immediately altered his pursuit angle in an attempt at an intercept course. But the artifact seemed to know the forest as well as any longtime resident.

From the commotion, the trees around them stirred with recognition. Massive treants, their bark-covered forms towering above the normal vegetation, turned their bodies toward the passing figures. One of them, a particularly aged specimen with moss coating his shoulders like a royal mantle, lowered a massive branch in greeting.

"Ah, young Savior," the treant's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You return to our woods. And you bring a stranger with you. Elder Treant will not be pleased by this."

Tyrus slowed his pace slightly, remembering his manners despite the urgency of their pursuit. "Hello. I'm sorry for the disturbance, but we're chasing something important."

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"The bright-thing that flew past?" Another treant chimed in, in who Tyrus recognized as Armless Treant. "It carried the scent and trail of corruption and purity. Is there something the matter?"

"We're trying to catch it before it causes any trouble," Tyrus explained, watching the artifact move further away. "I can't talk right now! I'll see you guys later!"

The treants seemed to understand the urgency, and several of them parted, their forms creating pathways through the underbrush that made the chase easier. Ahead, the shimmer of the sanctuary's barrier came into view. The magical boundary that protected the sacred grove was nearly invisible to most, appearing as little more than a heat haze on a summer day. But Tyrus could see it clearly, and he watched as the artifact passed through without hesitation.

They reached the barrier moments later, passing through the protective magic and into the sacred space beyond. A perfect circular clearing surrounded by trees whose leaves seemed to glow with their own inner light, while delicate purple flowers dotted the edges of the clearing like scattered jewels. Right as they entered, Elder Treant let out a little 'hrmm' and tracked their movement with what was definitely not benevolent curiosity this time.

"I would issue you the proper welcome to our sanctuary," Elder Treant's voice carried an edge of concern and suspicion. "But I am perplexed as to why have you brought a stranger into our sacred sanctuary? And why has your artifact—"

Elder Treant's words were cut short as the artifact, hovering near its upper branches, suddenly pulsed with increasing intensity. The ancient guardian's massive form stiffened as he sensed what was about to happen.

"By Mevena's roots!" Elder Treant whispered in alarm. "It seeks to feed on the sanctuary's essence!"

Sir Geroth's expression darkened. His hand moved to the hilt blade at his side. "Under normal circumstances, His Majesty's orders forbid us royal knights from entering this sanctuary. But this constitutes an emergency. I'll destroy that thing here and now before it can defile this sacred place."

Sir Geroth drew his sword and launched himself upward, his enhanced strength propelling him toward the hovering artifact. The blade gleamed as it cut through the air, aimed directly at the orb's glowing surface. But he was a step too late.

Tyrus felt the change before he saw it. The rich mana that permeated the sanctuary flowed like water toward the artifact. The process was gradual at first, barely perceptible, but it sped up into a visible stream of energy.

The artifact absorbed the sanctuary's mana with the same hunger it had shown in the lighthouse. The very air around them seemed to thin as magical energy was drawn upward, and Tyrus could see the black veins on the orb's surface beginning to shift and move. One by one, the runes that had covered its pale exterior started to fade and disappear, as if the absorbed mana was somehow purifying or completing the artifact.

The last of the black marks vanished from the artifact's surface. For a short while, it hung suspended in perfect, unmarked whiteness, like a pearl formed in the depths of the earth, until black specks dotted it all around. Then, without warning, it emitted a brilliant light that grew brighter and brighter until it became impossible to look at directly. Tyrus threw his hands up to shield his eyes, the radiance so intense it seemed to pierce through his closed eyelids. Beside him, he could hear Sir Geroth cursing.

Just as suddenly as it started, the light was gone. Tyrus blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his vision. When his sight finally returned, he looked up toward where the artifact had been hovering, expecting to see it transformed or changed in some fundamental way. Instead, he saw nothing. The space above Elder Treant's branches was devoid of any trace of the orb that had consumed so much power.

"Where—where did it go?" Tyrus spun around, scanning the sanctuary desperately. "It was right there!"

Sir Geroth placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Tyrus, calm yourself. Panic won't help us understand what's happened here. Furthermore, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

Right when Sir Geroth uttered those words, a horde of treants marched into the sanctuary, causing the ground to tremble under their weight. From above, spirits flew in with alarmed expressions on their transparent faces. They circled Elder Treants crown, leaving behind trailing specks of green and shining white that clung to the treant's leaves and branches.

Not only have the fairies and treants arrived, but so did other creatures Tyrus rarely come across during his little outing in Wildwood. Even the water nymphs left their ponds, gathering around Elder Treant to witness the commotion, no doubt. The number of creatures present made Tyrus realize that the artifact's actions had indeed been an emergency situation, if not on the level of outright chaos.

"Oh, this is not good," Sir Geroth muttered, swiveling his head around. "I'm not usually good with my words, so my diplomacy may be lacking, but I have no other choice if we want to get out of here in one piece."

Clearing his throat, Sir Geroth sheathed his blade and held his hands up, approaching Elder Treant at a snail's pace. "Er, greetings, Elder Treant of the Wildwood sanctuary. I would like to humbly apologize for our intrusion. We only entered because this was an emergency situation regarding a dangerous artifact that had escaped our custody."

"I understand this is sacred ground, and we had no intention of defiling it with our presence. Please, allow us to make this right somehow. We'll search for whatever caused this disturbance and remove ourselves from your sanctuary immediately. I know we don't belong here, and I sincerely apologize for any—"

"Tyrus!" A melodic voice interrupted Sir Geroth's nervous rambling as a small figure darted through the crowd of concerned forest dwellers. A lively earth spirit with wings that sparkled like morning dew swooped down toward them. Her diminutive form glowed with a soft green light, and flower petals seemed to fall in her wake as she flew. "You've returned to our sanctuary! How wonderful! How long are you staying for this time? Perhaps a week this time?"

Sir Geroth blinked in confusion, his diplomatic speech dying on his lips as Meadow circled around him with obvious delight.

"There is no need for such nervousness," Elder Treant said. "Any companion of Tyrus is welcome in our sanctuary. He has earned great honor among our kind."

Sir Geroth's mouth fell open slightly before he turned to stare at Tyrus in amazement. Then, to Tyrus's surprise, the royal knight threw back his head and laughed—a deep, genuine sound of relief and amusement. He clapped Tyrus heartily on the back, the force of it nearly knocking the younger man forward.

"You never cease to amaze me, my boy!" Sir Geroth said, still chuckling. "Here I was, terrified I'd somehow invoked the wrath of an Elder Treant in one of Mevena's most sacred sanctuaries. Do you know what that would mean? Disrespecting a deity's chosen guardian could bring divine retribution down on my head! You have to tell me the story over some drinks!"

Elder Treant's branches rustled with what might have been amusement. "Your respect is noted and appreciated, but unnecessary in this case. The Savior's presence grants you safe passage here."

The ancient treant's voice carried across the sanctuary, addressing the assembled creatures. "Children, spirits of wood and stream, there is no danger here. You may return to your domains if you wish."

Most of the gathered treants began to lumber away, disappearing back into the deeper woods. The water nymphs gracefully glided back toward their ponds, and many of the spirits dispersed into sparkling motes of light. But Meadow remained, hovering near Tyrus with obvious curiosity about what had transpired.

Elder Treant's eyes focused on Tyrus. "Now then, young Savior, perhaps you can explain what transpired here? Your artifact consumed a considerable amount of the sanctuary's sacred mana before vanishing completely. Such an occurrence is... unprecedented."

"It's complicated, Elder Treant," Tyrus said. "The artifact isn't what we thought it was. It's been communicating with me, and today it escaped when Sir Geroth suggested we take it to be studied. It led us here and then absorbed all that power and just vanished."

"Most troubling," Elder Treant rumbled. "An entity capable of consuming sacred mana with such hunger suggests something far more significant than a simple magical object."

Sir Geroth nodded grimly. "My thoughts exactly. Which is why we need to find it before it causes more damage. Elder Treant, would you grant me permission to search the surrounding areas of Wildwood? If that thing is still nearby—"

While Sir Geroth was still speaking, a familiar presence touched Tyrus's mind.

"Do not be alarmed, bearer. I am here."

Tyrus's head snapped up, scanning the sanctuary, when movement near the nepora caught his attention. A small form emerged from behind one of the trees; a pup that was clearly no ordinary beast. Its fur was predominantly black, but striking white streaks ran along its body like lightning frozen in time. Most notable was the intricate white symbol that marked its forehead.

Meadow gasped, darting closer to get a better look. "Oh my! I've never seen that type of magical beast around here before. Where did it come from?"

Magical beast? I thought lesser hounds were just regular beasts.

The pup approached them with dignified steps despite its youthful appearance, its eyes holding an intelligence that immediately set it apart from any normal creature.

"I must apologize for what has transpired, bearer. My actions in consuming the sacred mana were... necessary, but I understand the alarm they have caused."

Tyrus knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the extraordinary creature. "You're the artifact, aren't you?"

"I am what you called an artifact, yes, though that term was never truly accurate. I am—or rather, I was—a mana core that had been sealed for reasons I cannot fully recall."

"A mana core?" Tyrus repeated aloud for the benefit of the others. "It says it was a mana core that had been sealed, not an artifact."

"A sealed mana core," Elder Treant inquired. "That would explain much about its behavior and energy signature. It also explains why it has a conscience."

The pup continued its explanation, and Tyrus relayed its words as it spoke. "It's explaining what happened to it. Over time, through contact with both corrupted and pure mana, the seal that bound it began to weaken. The soul inside was starving for presence and began absorbing mana indiscriminately. As the mana accumulated, the seal frayed further until it finally shattered."

"When the seal broke, the soul didn't die from the explosion of power. Instead, it sought a vessel to inhabit. The nearest suitable creature was this lesser hound, a beast strong enough to handle basic mana flow but weak enough to be overtaken."

The pup's tail twitched as more memories emerged, and Tyrus continued, "The mana core embedded itself in the creature's heart, instantly transforming it. Its fur changed, its eyes glowed with energy. It became a true magical beast—no longer mindless, but a sapient being."

"With this new form came clarity," the pup continued. "Fragmented memories have begun to surface—images of roads underfoot, mountains passed, a name once spoken aloud: Eaubrus. I recall traveling across Dharmere, driven by something urgent, though whether it was duty or fear, I cannot say."

Tyrus paused in his translation, looking at the creature with growing sympathy. "It can't remember how it died or why it was sealed, but it does remember its name now. Eaubrus."

"This sanctuary," Eaubrus added, his mental voice carrying a note of puzzled recognition, "seems familiar to me, though I cannot place why. Perhaps I visited here in my previous life, or perhaps the connection runs deeper."

Elder Treant was quiet for a long moment, processing this information. "A mana core of such power, sealed for unknown reasons... This raises many questions. Why was this soul imprisoned? Who had the power to create such a binding? And what purpose would a mama core serve?"

Sir Geroth had been unusually quiet during the explanation, his experienced eyes studying the transformed creature with careful attention. For a split second, his eyes widened slightly, as if recognizing something, before he seemed to snap out of whatever realization had struck him.

"Tyrus," he said carefully. "What will you do now?"

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