The woods in trouble

“That was the nastiest thing I’ve ever had to do, Seth!” Idris wiped his mouth, grimacing as he popped a breath mint into his mouth. “I’m still tasting his treachery!”

“Why are you blaming me, Idris?” Seth looked at him, genuinely puzzled. “I didn’t try to poison us!”

“That was your leader!” Idris snapped, voice tight with disgust.

“Don’t remind me.” Seth clenched his jaw. “I can still feel it. The bile’s rising. I’m holding it back, but… man.”

“I’m just mad, Seth.” Idris’ voice softened with frustration. “My throat’s burning.”

Seth straightened, a gleam of determination in his eyes. “I have a plan.”

Idris raised an eyebrow. “What plan?”

“We need to get into his inner circle, and one of us has to befriend him.”

“Torock? Head Council Torock?” Idris blinked, incredulous. “Have the fumes from your vomit gone to your head?”

“I’m serious.” Seth held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hear me out.”

“We can’t just waltz into Torock’s circle. Not you, not me,” Idris muttered, shaking his head. “You really think he’s going to let us in? He’s been playing us all this time.”

“I can’t do it,” Seth continued, ignoring the interruption. “I’m not the one he trusts.”

Idris looked at him, confused. “Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, no. You can’t seriously think—”

“Take one for the team.” Seth’s voice was firm but laced with a quiet desperation. “I would do it for you.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Idris retorted, frustration building.

Seth recoiled, hurt flashing across his face. “Dude…”

“Bro…” Idris was taken aback, but his anger simmered just beneath the surface. “We’ve never had war factions or murder as an option. You’re asking me to play a part in that? You disappear for years, and now you come back like nothing happened, and expect me to jump into this madness with you?”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Seth’s voice cracked with an unexpected vulnerability.

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t know,” Idris shot back, his voice bitter. “You disappeared. Gone. For years, Seth. No word, no note, no nothing. You took Tamera, ran, and turned the whole realm upside down without even thinking about me. We didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”

Seth stood, his body stiff. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

“You think I didn’t care?” Idris demanded, fists clenched. “You think it was easy for me, wondering what happened? Watching you get captured and reconditioned while I stood there helpless, unable to do anything? I was tortured by that, Seth. Alone. For fifteen years.”

Seth's face twisted in guilt. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“You think that’s enough?” Idris scoffed, stepping closer. “Your parents weren’t perfect, but they fought for you. They begged the Council not to consider you a traitor. And the last time anyone heard from them? Gone. Just like that.”

Seth’s expression faltered, a deep regret filling his eyes. “Idris, I—”

Idris cut him off, his voice rising. “The truth is, we’re all just loose ends now. Fates are missing, vanishing without a trace. They say they’re being reconditioned, but we know better.”

“I know,” Seth muttered, his voice hollow.

“And what do you do with liabilities?” Idris demanded. “You eliminate them.”

Seth’s eyes hardened. “The Art of War,” he said softly, the words heavy with meaning.

“Yeah, the Art of War,” Idris repeated, his voice low and tense. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Seth smirked, but it was hollow. “You read too many of those Earth books.”

“I should never have read them,” Idris muttered, a touch of bitterness creeping into his tone. “But I did. And they taught me something. We used to sneak off to Earth, remember? What if Torock’s doing the same thing?”

Seth raised an eyebrow. “You think Torock’s been visiting Earth? Maybe. I used to raid my dad’s stash to get the contraband. Who knows where that came from?”

Idris exhaled sharply, realizing the implications. “And we weren’t the only ones sneaking around.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Idris paused, then asked, “Do you think the Head Council is trying to kill us? Or could it be they just want to tie up loose ends?”

Seth’s voice was low, thoughtful. “If it were me, I’d get rid of anyone who could be a threat.”

“Exactly,” Idris muttered. “And who’s he going to target first? Charlene.”

“Well, she’s not here,” Seth replied, his face grim. “She’s on her journey, and by the time she gets back, it could be too late. But maybe Argun can warn her.”

Idris nodded. “We have to warn them.”

Seth took a deep breath. “But if we rush in without thinking, it’s an ambush. Taking the usual routes would take too long. We can’t just portal in either; they’ll be ready for us.”

Idris’ eyes burned with urgency. “If we wait too long, we could lose too many lives.”

“Do you really think Torock would harm all those fates?” Seth asked, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

“I know he’s capable of it,” Idris replied, his gaze hardening. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

“Don’t give me that Sherlock look.” Seth smiled weakly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Remember when we were kids?” Idris asked quietly.

Seth’s eyes softened, lost in the past. “Peter Pan and Wendy.”

Idris grinned. “Okay, it might work. Let’s contact Professor E. He should still be at the university.”

“While you’re doing that,” Seth said, already heading for the door, “I’m going to do some recon.”

Idris looked at him. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m paying our dear friend Torock a visit,” Seth said with a dark smile. “Let’s see what he’s up to.”

Seth left the room, pulling out a small stone bracelet from his pocket. “Take this,” he said, tossing it to Idris. “It’s a communication stone.”

Idris caught it, inspecting it with a raised brow. “A friendship bracelet? I don’t wear jewelry.”

“It’s not a joke, Idris. This will help us communicate,” Seth said, rolling his eyes. “And don’t ask how many relics I’ve stolen.”

“Liar.” Idris laughed, a brief moment of levity before the tension returned.

Idris left for the university, Seth heading to the grand hall, determined to find Torock. As Seth entered Torock’s office, he was met with an unexpected scene: a heated argument between Torock and Council Member Byron.

“Your behavior is outrageous!” Byron shouted. “I’m putting a stop to this, Torock!”

“Leave us,” Torock commanded, and Haroon shimmered into the room, his presence silent but imposing as he walked out, eyes never leaving Byron.

Byron was seething. “You need to get your emotions under control, Councilor. Or else.”

“Or else what?” Torock’s voice was like a knife’s edge. “You’d better remember who put you in that seat.”

Byron took a step forward, defiant. “What is this I’m hearing about a guard?”

“I’ve assembled an elite group of fates to handle the Sec,” Torock replied coldly.

Byron laughed harshly. “By whose authority?”

Torock stood abruptly, his expression shifting to one of cold fury. Byron didn’t see it coming. He touched his mark, duplicating the symbol of the soul spear on his arm, and within moments, a real spear materialized in his hand. He was suddenly standing face to face with Byron, the spear at his throat.

Byron’s eyes widened, but it was too late. With a swift movement, Torock sliced the spear across Byron’s throat. Blood splattered the room—walls, desk, even the ceiling. Byron’s limp body crumpled to the floor, his life fading as blood poured from the wound.

Torock stood over him, unflinching. “Is there anything else you wanted to say?”

He turned to Haroon, who entered quickly, eyes scanning the bloodied room.

“Clean up the mess,” Torock ordered coldly as he exited.

Haroon nodded, his face impassive as he set to work. The room was left in chaos, and Torock’s ominous shadow lingered in the air.