“Shut up.” The drow’s gaze flickered past her as if he didn’t even see his daughter standing in line with the others following him.
Cheyenne frowned. He looks like he’s losing it. If he goes all space-drow on us again, I’ll lose it too.
Lumil glanced at L’zar and tried to follow his gaze. “Anything in particular we’re looking for?”
L’zar hissed and stepped away from the party, peering through the trees. A rustle in the short, scruffy bushes on his right made him turn, and he launched a blazing dart of white light at them.
An angry, frightened squeal erupted from the shrubbery, followed by a creature with mottled dark-brown skin and three horns protruding from an elongated snout. It scrambled across the loose earth, yellow eyes wide before L’zar’s next attack caught it squarely in the side and dropped the creature on the spot. The animal snorted once, sending up a spray of leaves away from its snout, and lay still.
Ember stared at the thing. “Is that a pig?”
Corian raised an eyebrow at the dead creature. “Something like one, yeah.” He looked at L’zar. “And apparently such a threat that L’zar had to deal with it for us.”
L’zar grunted. “It was moving.”
“Not a good excuse,” Cheyenne muttered.
“It’s mutated too.” The drow tossed his hand toward the O’gúl version of a wild boar and kept moving. “Wouldn’t want that thing attacking us and spreading the blight, would we?”
Corian stared after him and slowly shook his head before exchanging concerned glances with Maleshi.
Five minutes later, L’zar spun wildly and sent a wave of blinding white light at the tallest tree they’d seen in half an hour. The branches exploded, and startled gray birds shrieked as they fluttered down the mountainside. The furry dark-purple body that fell from the tree squeaked once and lay still on the ground.
Ember looked from the purple thing to the tree again and blinked. “I don’t even know what that might be.”
“Not a threat, L’zar,” Corian warned.
“You don’t know that,” the drow hissed. “You don’t know anything out here. I do.”
“Jesus, you need to chill out.” Cheyenne walked steadily across the shallow incline and tried to get L’zar to look at her. “Pigs and birds and whatever the hell that purple thing is aren’t our main concern right now.”
L’zar whirled on her, his eyes wide and maddened with the first sign of fear she’d seen in him since he’d projected himself into her head, trying to make sure she wasn’t dead. “You have no idea what we’re about to face, Cheyenne. If I feel like losing my shit, there’s a damn good reason for it. Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts. You’ll understand soon enough.”
Kicking up a spray of leaves, dry twigs, and fallen pine needles, the drow thief stalked toward the destination only he knew. The rest of the party exchanged silent, wary glances.
Corian said, “I think we’re getting close.”
Maleshi scoffed and gestured toward L’zar, who was storming off ahead of them. “Really? How could you tell?”
Cheyenne looked at Ember, who offered a clueless shrug. He better pull himself together before we need him for something dangerous.
Not long after that, L’zar led them down a steep ravine into a valley. Cheyenne noticed how quiet the valley was—no birds, no animal noises, not even the wind rustling through leaves. A cold tingle prickled down her spine. She finished sliding down the last of the loose shale behind Maleshi as the nightstalker offered Foltr a hand. He took it for a moment, then brushed her away from him before moving on with his staff.
The halfling looked at the sprawling valley in front of them and felt dark, grieving anger boiling up inside her. “What the hell?”
The valley was filled with the gnarled, twisted shapes of nearly a hundred trees towering into the sky. She could feel the power that used to be here and knew it had been stripped from the empty husks stretching in front of them. Nimlothar trees. A whole forest, and they’re all dead.
“Keep moving,” L’zar muttered with a grunt, passing the dead trunks as if he didn’t notice them.
Like he’s been here before. Cheyenne clenched her fists as they moved through the dead forest. The Nimlothar trees towered above them, every branch bare of leaves and devoid of life. A trace of the power that had once connected them to the drow race still hung thick in the air.
She stopped and reached out to touch the twisted black bark. A chunk fell away beneath her fingers and crumbled to dust that fluttered away in the low breeze. Her fingers stung with the residual pain in the ruined tree’s memories, and she sucked in a sharp breath. This is what losing an arm feels like. It has to be.
“Cheyenne,” Maleshi said her name softly, but there was a warning in it. “Keep moving.”
Blinking back the tears welling in her eyes, the halfling gritted her teeth and pressed on. The weight of so much dead, stolen power in the forest pressed on her like a physical force. “What happened here?”
Corian looked at the branches with a pained frown. “I’m sure your first guess would be right on the mark.”
“The Crown killed them.” Cheyenne felt the truth in her bones and forced herself to keep her rage under control. Hold it together, at least until we’re out of here. This place doesn’t deserve any more damage or pain. “Just so she could have the last Nimlothar all to herself in the Heart.”
L’zar scowled and kicked up the dry, dead soil like a spoiled child who didn’t get the candy he wanted. “I mourned them too when I first saw this place. I don’t like it any more than you do, but she honestly did our kind a favor when she wiped out this forest.”
“What?” Cheyenne glared at her father. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”
“This place was a living snare, Cheyenne.”
“A snare for what?”
L’zar briefly paused and turned as if
