The Naruun laws regarding outsiders were ancient and strict, established after historical incidents where outsiders had exploited the forest's resources or attempted to steal bonded animals. The Law of Closed Paths prohibited any non-Naruun from entering the forest's inner territories without formal approval from the Council of Elders. The Law of Constant Vigilance required that all approved outsiders be accompanied by at least two bonded pairs at all times. And the Law of Sacred Knowledge forbade sharing information about the forest's magical resources with any outsider, regardless of their stated intentions.
By even speaking with Nora and her group without reporting their presence, Ithor had already violated the Law of Immediate Reporting. By considering helping them gather resources, he stood on the brink of breaking the most serious taboo in Naruun society—betraying the forest's trust.
Nora was skilled with words. They talked for hours. She spoke about blood deserts, bout the violet sky of the Zhyren, about how the Olkhar trained their gifts at the foot of Mount Ilhyr. She stoked his imagination like a well-fed fire.
The Lady of Shadows, working through Nora's vessel, employed manipulation techniques refined over centuries. She had studied Ithor from afar before this encounter, identifying his restlessness and curiosity as exploitable weaknesses. Each story she told was carefully crafted to appeal to his specific yearnings—tales of wonders just beyond his reach, adventures he could be part of, a world that needed someone with his unique abilities.
More insidiously, she subtly influenced the bond between Ithor and Faaron, using a form of empathic interference that the wolf could sense but not identify. This created a barely perceptible dissonance in their connection—not enough to alert Ithor, but sufficient to prevent Faaron from fully communicating his instinctive distrust of the strangers.
At the end of that night, Ithor guided them—through sacred trails, to the feet of Av'reen, where the roots pulsed with energy. They collected only what was necessary, or so it seemed. No sign of violence, no excess. In farewell, Nora offered him a ring of dark stone.
He just had to touch it with intention, and a glow would guide him to the clearing, whenever he wanted to find her again.
The ring was more than a simple tracking device. Crafted from stone harvested from a Dead Zone and infused with void energy, it served multiple purposes in the Lady's scheme. It allowed her to monitor Ithor's movements and emotional states, gradually weakened the natural protective magic of the forest around him, and most importantly, subtly interfered with the clarity of his bond with Faaron. Each time he touched it, the connection between Ithor and his wolf became slightly more muddled, making it easier for the Lady to influence his perceptions and decisions.
And he returned.
On the following nights, Ithor provided paths, explained how to avoid the patrollers, described the creatures, and even indicated areas of abundance. He did not realize, or did not want to realize, that his help was feeding not a group of healers... but mercenaries.
Besides Nora, the group consisted of two human men without gifts—brutal and armed—and two Sangor. The latter, silent and dangerous. But they spoke little, observed much.
The humans, on the other hand, openly mocked Ithor—without him noticing. Each new location marked on their maps meant more profits, more trafficking, more disrespect to the forest.
The mercenaries were part of the Black Thorn Guild, one of several criminal organizations that operated under the Lady of Shadows' protection and direction. The humans—Krev and Dorn—were former soldiers who had been dishonorably discharged from the Verithil border guard for excessive violence. They specialized in capturing rare creatures for illegal fighting rings and exotic pet markets in the wealthy districts of Olkaris.
The Sangor—twins named Vex and Nex—were blood-magic specialists who had been exiled from their own people for practicing forbidden rituals involving sacrificial magic.
Their primary task was to harvest magical essences from the forest's rarest plants and creatures—components that would later be used in the Lady's more complex rituals for expanding the Dead Zones.
Each night that Ithor guided them deeper into the forest, they collected far more than he was shown. While he led Nora to gather the supposedly medicinal herbs, the others would split off to hunt protected species, tap ancient trees for their magical sap, or place small black crystals at key magical nodes—seeds that would eventually grow into corrupted energy pockets.
Until everything collapsed.
On a night of fog and wet leaves, Ithor was guiding the group through a natural tunnel of roots, toward a sacred valley, when the Naruun Patrol appeared. Fifteen tamers on distinct beasts: wolves, deer, panthers, and a colossal black bear. Spears raised, eyes alert.
"Ithor?!" roared the patrol leader, astonished.
The shock of the encounter caused a pause. The patrollers did not expect to see one of their own alongside invaders. And the mercenaries, experienced in exploiting gaps, did not hesitate.
The patrol was led by Elder Thorne, whose bear Anirû Morak was legendary throughout the forest for their perfect synchronization. Thorne had known Ithor since childhood and had personally advocated for leniency when the young man's wanderings had first come to the Council's attention. The betrayal reflected in his eyes was not just that of a patrol leader discovering an intruder, but of a mentor finding his faith misplaced.
Nora was the first. With a quick gesture, her golden eyes glowed. Time decelerated in her vision. A poisoned arrow cut through the air like an invisible viper and lodged in the shoulder of one of the patrollers mounted on a wolf. The man screamed, and his wolf brother howled in unison. The bond transmitted the pain like thorns in the soul.
The poison was a specialized neurotoxin developed specifically to attack the Naruun-Anirû bond. It created a cascading disruption in the neural pathways that facilitated the connection, causing excruciating pain to both partners simultaneously. Even a nonlethal dose could permanently damage the bond's depth and clarity—a fate many bonded Naruun considered worse than death.
Chaos erupted.